


On Matters of the Heart

by postingpebbles



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Swan Lake Fusion, Alternate Universe - Swan Princess (1994) Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Swan Princess (1994) References, my love for the swan princess has been caught i've gotta tag it now, of an original character, soulmarks equal magic bc of the strength and rarity of the soulbond, soulmates are uncommon, swan lake AU, villain is unnamed bc i can't make anyone in yoi the bad guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 59,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8902627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postingpebbles/pseuds/postingpebbles
Summary: In a world where magic is rare and soulmarks even rarer, Yuuri, the youngest prince of Hasetsu, has somehow managed to be born with both. His name means strength and courage, but he doubts he is enough to become worthy of his soulmate, or if he even wants them.And across the ocean in a kingdom of his own, Viktor Nikiforov searches for the person who has his matching mark. The day his soulmark appeared on his chest was burned into his mind, and he longs to finally meet the person who is his other half. But trouble is brewing just out of their sight, and the only thing they can do when it strikes is have faith that they'll be able to weather the storm—Because everything depends on it.   Or: A Swan Lake/Soulmate AU filled with life, love, and learning.





	1. Prologue: Feathers

It was one o'clock in the morning when a scream ripped through the cold, still autumn air.

Viktor Nikiforov, Russia's young tsesarevich, cried and curled inward, clutching his chest. He was  _burning,_ like that one time he accidentally touched the hot pan with his finger while he watched his grandfather cook the meat for  _piroshki,_ but except it was on his chest and it  _wasn't going away._ The pain was coming from outside  _and_ inside him, and Viktor was so confused because if he was burning, where was the fire— _Mama, it_ hurts!

His sobs increased in volume, the pain searing itself into his skin. His eyes were screwed shut and Viktor struggled to breathe, only choked gasps and shouts leaving his lips. But the burn intensified and Viktor _screamed_ , clutching at the breast of his shirt even tighter, tears escaping closed lids and flowing down already-damp cheeks.

“Mama!” he sobbed, writhing under his blankets. “ _Mama!_ ”

Just a hallway down from Viktor's closed door, a pair of guards had heard his cries and rushed to the tsesarevich’s aid. They turned the corner and nearly collided with the tsarina, who was already woken by her son’s sobs. They locked eyes for a split second, but the tsarina turned away to wrench the bedroom door open.

“Vitya!” she shouted when she stepped in the room, her eyes widening when they adjusted to the darkness. She quickly gathered her small son into her arms, smoothing back long strands of sweaty silver hair and wiping teary blue eyes. “ _Solnyshko,_ what’s wrong?”

“Hurts,” he whimpered in reply, pained little noises escaping him as he clutches her nightgown. "Mama, it _hurts._ "

Taking a deep breath, the tsarina turned to the guards, who were still standing, frozen, in the doorway. “Wake my father,” she instructed, letting some of her authority leak into her voice. “Tell him to meet me in the tsesarevich's room.”

They saluted unsteadily (she suddenly realized that one of them was Georgi's father, and _of course_ the two guards would be worried—Viktor often whiled away the hours after his studies with the palace guards and they all cared for him deeply), and when they were gone, the tsarina hugged her son tighter to her breast. Minute tremors and muffled sobs still passed through him—though she dimly registered they had decreased in volume—but her worry was still nearing dangerous levels. _Please be okay, please be okay,_ please _be okay,_ she prayed.

With an aching heart, she pried Viktor's small hands away from her clothes so she could see what had caused him so much pain. "Shh, shh," she murmured, pulling sweaty layers off his body with shaking hands. "You'll be just fine, Vitya, I love you, you'll be okay."

“Nadia!” her father's voice called from the open doorway, making her head snap up. “The guards told me that something was wrong with Vitya. What happened?”

At that, the dam holding back her emotions crumbled. Her fists clenched the blue blankets, which were flung away because of Viktor's kicking. He was only three years old; she couldn't lose him, too.

“Papa, I don’t know,” she confessed, beginning to cry. Her father sat on the opposite side of the bed, green eyes filled with concern. “He just began screaming and I ran here, and I-I didn’t know what to _do_.” Nadia glanced back at her son and sent him a small smile. “Does it still hurt, _solnyshko_?” she asked, beginning to pull the last shirt off.

“Not really,” Viktor mumbled, wiping stray tears away as he sat up. "Mama, are you okay?" he said, looking up at her with worry that mirrored her own.

She laughed softly at the realization and sniffed and roughly wiped away her own tears. Carding her fingers through Viktor's tangled hair to smooth out the knots, she whispered tenderly, "I'm fine, _lyubov moya._ Mama's very happy that you're all right."

Viktor smiled at her, the familiar heart-shaped grin giving her nostalgia.  _Oh, I wish you could have seen him grow up._

But she froze at the flash of black on her son’s chest as it was uncovered by that last shirt. Her heart lurched. “Papa,” she whispered.

"I see it," he replied, an unusual tone in his voice. 

“That’s never been there before. Th-that shape—it’s _new._ ”

“You are correct,” Nikolai agreed, not looking as troubled as she thought he was.

"Papa, what are you thinking?" she asked when he didn't elaborate on his previous words. "Is it—?"

"Yes. I believe so."

"Mama? Dedushka?" Viktor interjected quietly, confused.

“I believe that mark on Vitya’s chest may be a soulmark," Nikolai surmised, hesitating slightly as he ignored his grandson's unspoken question. "His intended must have just been born, which is why it only manifested today.”

“But it _hurt_ him, Papa. His soulmark _hurt_ him!"

Nadia was too emotional to think clearly; if she was her usual level-headed self, she would have been able to calmly rationalize. Since soulmarks were infused with magic (and her son’s body was not used to holding magic, of course), it would hurt to suddenly have such an influx of power flood his tiny body. In addition, the mark was actually quite beautiful—it was a small feather, stark black against snowy skin.

. . . And the feather was right over his heart—the closer it was, the stronger the bond.

But because Nadia was still consumed with concern over Viktor’s well-being, her father calmly explained the above to her. “We should try to figure out who Vitya’s soulmate is,” he said, as an end his explanation. “Find babies born today with a soulmark.”

“Mama? What’s wrong?” Viktor asked again, still not comprehending the importance of the situation. “What's a s-soul—?”

Nadia let out a deep sigh to calm down, then smiled gently at her son. “Your soulmate, _solnyshko,_ is a person who loves you very much. They’ll make you very happy, and you’ll want to make them happy in return. They’ll be your best friend.”

“Like you and Papa?” Viktor asked innocently, poking his head through his shirt as he put it back on.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Y-Yes,” Nadia managed to say, smiling slightly. “Like me and Papa.”

“I wanna meet them,” Viktor said bravely. “I wanna see if they’re okay 'cause I was hurting, and if they're hurt they're probably real sad. And that’s what best friends do.”

Nadia and her father laughed. “There’s my little boy,” she said, pulling him into a hug. Little arms wrapped around her as well. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Now, back to bed. It's been a long night for you.”

Viktor then yawned, smiling sheepishly. "Night, Mama."

His mother and grandfather then left, whispering to each other, but Viktor couldn't fall asleep despite the weight of sleepiness pressing down on him.

He couldn't wait to meet his soulmate and—oh! What if he wrote them a letter? That would cheer them up!

 

> _to you_
> 
> _i love you!_
> 
> _from viktor_

 

Perfect.

 

* * *

 

 And at almost the same exact time as Viktor Nikiforov received his soulmark, the kingdom of Hasetsu was experiencing some tension of its own.

It was also an early autumn morning there; early enough that the sky was only just beginning to lighten. Wind whistled through bare branches and flung fallen leaves high into the air.

Most people were not aware of the worry that day though; parents were waking to add more wood to their fires and checking on the small, fur-blanketed bodies huddled nearby for warmth. The village bakery began rolling dough like clockwork to prepare for the morning rush, several loaves already toasting in the oven.

But lights blazed in the castle overlooking the sleeping village, and the king was pacing anxiously outside a room. His wife had gone into labor with their second child, and her pain-filled screams made his heart ache. He longed to rush in there to hold her hand, whisper _You’re doing so well, Hiroko, our baby’s going to be so beautiful,_ but he had been forcibly removed from the room when the doctor’s face became grim and she pronounced _There was a complication with the birth, Your Majesty, please leave_ right now.

Toshiya trusted Minako, trusted her so much, and had faith that the woman would deliver his child safely. But the love of his life was in so much agony and there was nothing that he could do to prevent it.

Their daughter, Mari, was still sleeping soundly (it was still a little early for her to be up), and Toshiya didn’t have the heart to wake her during such a tense moment. She had been so excited to finally have a sibling, and despite her parents warning her that she wouldn’t know the gender until the baby was born, she had insisted that she’d have a brother.

As the sun’s rays began to stream into the hallway, Toshiya ran his hands through his hair (was it thinning? The stress was really getting to him) and sat down, his back sliding against the wall. He released a breath, whispering to himself, “Please let Hiroko and our child be safe.”

The door suddenly burst open, and Toshiya looked up wildly. It was Minako, looking haggard, her normally impeccable hair rough and unkempt, but she was _smiling_.

“How are they?” Toshiya asked, jumping to his feet. To Minako, he knew that he looked at least as stressed as she, if not more. But hope was bubbling in his chest.

“They’re just fine, _heika,_ ” the doctor said, smirking at his protests of “Minako, I’ve told you to just call me Toshiya!” and stepping aside to let him through.

“Hiroko,” Toshiya breathed once seeing her resting in bed, a small white bundle nestled in her arms. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, giving him a sleepy smile as he rushed over to her, Minako following close behind. Hiroko’s cheeks were flushed pink from exertion, and her eyes were bright as ever as she looked between the bundle in her arms and her husband. “Say hello to our son.”

Toshiya gently picked the sleeping baby up, and took this moment to study their child, tears beginning to prick his eyes. Downy black hair, chubby cheeks with a healthy flush, and most definitely a pair of warm brown eyes underneath closed lids. “He’s _perfect_ ,” he whispered, cradling the baby close.

Hiroko’s laugh sounded watery, her emotions getting to her. Glancing at the doctor, she added, “He’s also got a soulmark, can you believe it? Minako noticed when she was washing him.”

Toshiya started, staring at the baby in disbelief. “Our son has a soulmark?”

To his left, Minako nodded. “On his chest—a little silver feather.”

Toshiya gently pulled back the soft blue blanket, confirming Minako’s words. The mark was smooth and bright, looking as natural on his skin as any part of his body would.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hiroko whispered, echoing her husband’s thoughts. Taking her son back from Toshiya, she asked Minako, “Do you think he’ll ever meet his soulmate?”

The doctor frowned at her question. “It’s hard to say,” she confessed, smoothing her brown hair back into her usual half-ponytail. “I’ve heard stories that people know as soon as they make eye contact, or that a secondary mark appears on their skin as soon as they touch. Usually soulmarks are on the same general area of the body, but it’s hard to find who your other half is because they could be anywhere in the world. And there’s the added complication of magic being involved—”

“Well, it’s no matter,” Hiroko said, smiling tenderly at her son. “We’ll love our Yuuri for as long as we’re alive. We’ll make sure he’s happy.”

Toshiya laughed, noting the name. “It suits him. He fought long and hard to be with us today.”

“That he did,” Minako agreed.

And an hour later, Mari met her little brother.

Minako had left to make her daily rounds in the village, and Toshiya had gone to announce the good news to the kingdom. But Yuuri was awake this time, staring wide-eyed at his newest visitor. His eyes were as dark as Toshiya predicted, carbon copies of his parents.

“He’s so _small_ ,” Mari gasped, playing with Yuuri’s feet and marveling as they curled inward at her touch. “And so cute!”

“It’s your job to take care of him,” Hiroko instructed, repositioning the baby in her arms. “Yuuri’s too young to know what to do, so that’s why you have to set a good example for him as he gets older. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course!” Mari said, affronted. Yuuri’s tiny hand was currently wrapped around her finger. “I’m gonna be the best sister ever!”

“I’m counting on you,” Hiroko said, smiling.

And later, Yuuri’s birth was received with intense joy from the villagers.

When the news was first made public nine months ago, the kingdom was thrilled when they discovered that Queen Hiroko was pregnant with her second child, seven years after she gave birth to the Crown Princess Mari. They loved their king and queen, and had a great deal of respect for the way that they ruled Hasetsu.

And they fell in love with Prince Yuuri when he was presented up on the castle’s balcony, loud cheers resounding from the crowd below.

However, Yuuri’s soulmark was kept secret to everyone except for his family, Minako, and a few trusted servants. Toshiya and Hiroko were all-too-aware that Unbonded had great magical power because of the rarity and strength of the connection between souls, and would only grow stronger once they were able to prove their love to one another. But once they found each other, their magic would be strong enough to protect them.

Yuuri’s parents wanted to keep their son as safe for as long as they could until his soulmate was found.

As time passed, kingdoms everywhere sent their congratulations and gifts for Katsuki Yuuri’s birth (including a Russian tsarina with a small son of her own, but that was a story for later), and the country was happy and at peace.

The family had no idea of the tumult that was to erupt in the far future.

Because unbeknownst to all, there was a man who—despite attempts of Hasetsu’s royal family to keep the secret under wraps—heard whispers that the youngest prince was born with a soulmark. Once he heard this, no matter how baseless the rumors were, he had a spy installed deep into the network of the kingdom. This man was selfish and power-hungry, you see, and desperately needed the magic of an Unbonded to carry out his budding plans.

But he needed to wait. The spell he had to use took years to develop, and he needed his spy to slowly gain the trust of the king and queen and strike when least expected. And luckily for him, this man was good at waiting; his everlasting patience and his mind were his greatest virtue.

So he slunk deep into the recesses of Hasetsu, biding his time until everything was ready.

He would wait for twenty-four years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids (and Happy New Year!)
> 
> So _Yuri!!! on Ice_ has taken over my life (i'm low-key obsessed), and this is the product after seeing a _beautiful_ piece of [art](http://gays-on-ice.tumblr.com/post/154437694518/kiiyoshi-currently-working-on-a-swan) on tumblr.
> 
> A rough outline has been made, but updates are gonna be **_super_** irregular bc I have to figure out when I can write it. Sorry, I just wanted to get this chapter out bc i'm so excited for the rest of it :)
> 
> And i do hope you've enjoyed what i've written so far!
> 
> EDIT: Changed Nadia's title to Tsarina (Queen/Empress) and Viktor's to Tsesarevich (basically Crown Prince, I think—the oldest child/heir to the throne)


	2. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm choking at how well-received the first chapter was—oh boy, the pressure's on now haha xD
> 
> I've written like, four different scenarios for Chapter 2, which is the main reason it's taken so long for this to be updated (along with the fact I'm super nitpicky about everything I write so I read over this about a million times before deciding to post the chapter—I'm a really slow writer, as you've probably deduced by now). See, I first wanted to write about Yuuri and Viktor's childhoods, but then I realized that it would take away from the main plot of the story so I skipped ahead like, two decades lol. I don't want to waste everything I've written, so maybe I'll stick it in as a Part II in a separate story. 
> 
> It was weirdly hard to churn this chapter out, but I've finally managed to make _something._ So here you go—a lovely chapter with lots of exposition. :)
> 
> But really, I appreciate every single one of you for deciding to stick with me (aka the Hot Mess™) and this story :3 There were so many kind comments and kudos and hits that I wanted to cry tears of happiness. You all are so nICE TO ME.

Winter had come to Hasetsu once again, bringing cold winds, a deceptively bright sun, and the quiet passing of the young prince’s twenty-fourth birthday.

Enough time had passed that the aging king and queen stepped down years ago, with a celebration held as their eldest child ascended the throne. She was as brilliant and clever a ruler as her parents before her, but overexertion over the past few months made her fall weak. Though Minako’s tonics only alleviated her symptoms at best, Mari still burned with fever, a cough ravaging her ragged throat.

Understandably, her entire family was extremely worried as they worked to keep the kingdom running smoothly in her stead. They could only hope she would get well soon.

As he had been doing for the past few days, Yuuri was bringing up a small tray (a tall glass of water, no ice, and a bowl of miso soup, steaming) to her from the kitchens. Normally he wouldn't be worried about spilling anything, but his mother had been a little overeager as she prepared the dishes so both water and soup were dangerously close to sloshing out of their containers.

"Yuuri-ouji, would you like me to take that instead?"

Glancing up momentarily from the tray, Yuuri stopped walking and smiled slightly when he saw who had greeted him. "No, I've got it, Kayo-san. Thank you."

The woman sighed fondly as she adjusted the pile of laundry in her arms. The laugh lines around her eyes crinkled. "You're such a good boy for taking care of your sister. If only Kenjirou was the same as you."

"Minami-kun works very hard, I've heard," Yuuri said earnestly, remembering that her son was in training to be a soldier. "Takeshi tells me about him sometimes."

"His father and I are very proud of him," she said, her amber eyes brightening. "Oh, and please send my regards to  _Joou Heika_  when you see her,and let me help you once in a while," she scolded. "It's my job, after all."

"Of course, Kayo-san," he laughed, both of them knowing that the exact same thing was going to play out again in the future. His entire family was like that. Refusing help, that was.

It was a collective mindset among them to  _not be a burden, if you can do it yourself then do it_ because they didn't want to cause unnecessary stress on the servants. Even  _calling_ them servants made Yuuri feel uncomfortable. His mother and father truly loved their people, so they instilled into their children the importance of hard work and had them know how to support themselves and help their kingdom. Yuuri and Mari had even gone to school in the village when they were younger, where their parents had hired a proper teacher from Italy.

But it wasn’t as if the castle staff did nothing. Without them, Yuuri knew that everything would have fallen into ruin. His parents would’ve been stretched thin doing everything on their own, from handling the kingdom’s finances to cooking meals for their family. And nothing changed once Mari was coronated. From the hushed whispers among the staff, Yuuri was aware that each member was truly happy to work in the palace. He had heard stories of other kingdoms where the castle was cold and dark because of a lack of connection between the rulers and the people who worked for them, and as he said goodbye to Kayo, Yuuri couldn’t imagine his home, so warm and full of life, being that empty.

Continuing down the hall, Yuuri's gaze drifted to the world outside the windows. Snow used to melt as soon as he touched it; sometimes it would even sputter if the pile was large enough. But it wouldn't now. As he rounded a corner into the East Wing, Yuuri’s attention returned to the tray in his hands. There were no windows in this part of the castle to distract him, only a multitude of rooms hidden behind closed doors.

Yuuri stopped at the one farthest down the hallway and carefully shifted the tray to one hand before he opened it, the hinges creaking lowly. The foot of the bed should be right in front of him, he knew, but it since it was so _dark_ in here he couldn’t exactly tell where it was. She really needed to light a candle or something, he thought, sighing fondly.

“Nee-chan?” Yuuri called as he navigated the room. “How are you feeling?”

He heard a cough to his left before his sister spoke. “Fantastic, if I do say so myself,” Mari croaked sardonically, and Yuuri pursed his lips as she coughed again. She sounded _awful,_ and once he yanked the curtains open he was able to see that her cheeks were burning with heat. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.

“Hasetsu needs its queen back,” Yuuri teased, trying to make her feel at least emotionally well, if not physically. He set the tray on Mari’s bedside table, then sunk into the chair next to her. “It might just fall apart without you.”

“Oh, I know that you aren’t doing _much_ ,” she huffed, sitting up and reaching for the water. “It’s all Otou-san and Okaa-san. Heaven knows what would happen if _you_ ran the kingdom, Yuuri.”

“I take offense to that,” he said, crossing his arms, and Mari only laughed as he glared at her.

But then she started coughing again, dry and harsh, and Yuuri froze in place. “Nee-chan . . .”

“I’m— _fine,_ Yuuri,” she snapped between coughs, her voice muffled from where her arm was covering her mouth. And when the water sloshed out of the cup and onto her blankets, she cursed. “At this rate I won’t be able to go to the conference—I’d be too busy hacking my lungs out the entire meeting,” she said bitterly.

 _The conference._ Yuuri had forgotten about it. “Couldn’t Otou-san or Okaa-san go instead?” he asked, getting up to dampen a washcloth. “Even though they’ve stepped down since your coronation, they would still have decent sway over the others.”

Mari shook her head, downing the remaining drops of water in the glass. “Yuuri, you _know_ that they’re getting too old to travel that far. I couldn’t ask them to go for me. The only option is for me to go myself, dying or not,” she said, the last words dripping in sarcasm.

“But nee-chan, _you_ can’t either,” Yuuri argued, taking back the empty cup when he sat back down in the chair. He then scooched closer, placing the cold cloth on his sister’s forehead. “Traveling would only make you feel worse, especially if it’s in Russia this year. It’s _cold_ there _._ ”

“There’s no one else who _can_ ,” Mari fretted, running a hand through her messy, sweaty hair. Then determination suddenly laced itself across her features. "You know what, I'm going to pack up," she decided, throwing aside her blankets. "Yuuri, if you help me, I'll be able to leave by tonight. Call Kayo-san or Okaa-san—"

"No!" Yuuri blurted, jumping up. " _I'll_ go." At Mari's look of shock, he continued, "I'm perfectly healthy,  _and_ I know as much as you do about the state of Hasetsu. I've been to enough conferences with you and Otou-san that I know what to expect there, just— _please_ don't go."

Mari's expression settled into something fierce as she processed what Yuuri had said. “Yuuri—Yuuri, _no._ I can’t ask you to do that for me,” she said, her eyes steely despite her sickly pallor. 

"You're not 'asking me,'  _I_ made the decision!"

Mari shook her head. “You said it yourself, the conference is in _Russia_ this year, which means he’ll be there for sure!”

“I _know_ that!” Yuuri burst out right after, his eyes squeezing shut. His lungs suddenly felt like they couldn’t get enough air. “. . . I know that,” he repeated, his voice smaller. “But there’s no other choice. Nee-chan, I don’t want you or Otou-san or Okaa-san getting hurt because I was too scared to go to Russia. I’d hate myself if something happened to you instead of me.”

Mari’s eyes still held fire in them. “Yuuri, I _refuse_ to let you go. Your magic is practically _gone_ because of him, it’s his fault—!”

But then she broke off into another fit of coughing, and Yuuri’s emotional haze cleared. His heart thrummed in his chest as he rubbed her back, soothing her sore body. What had he done? There was no point in worrying Mari unnecessarily when she was sick.

Yuuri exhaled heavily, calmer. “I've never _once_ blamed Viktor for the loss of my magic."

"You  _should,_ " she mumbled, the heat gone from her voice. "It's been part of you your entire life, and I _know_ it wasn't easy for you when you found out you could barely make even a little flame. You were a _mess._ "

"That was four years ago, nee-chan," he said, laughing hollowly. "I've gotten a lot better since then."

"You still haven't healed, though," Mari said softly, reaching out her hand to touch Yuuri's. "This would've been warmer. You could've lit that candle yourself instead of opening the curtains."

". . . I know."

His sister sighed, sensing Yuuri's unwillingness to talk anymore. "I'm still against you going, but . . . you're right, I'm really not in the best condition to travel. Maybe this trip will be good for you," she added after a beat. 

Later that night, after he packed everything he thought he would need, Yuuri made his way to the ship that would be taking him to Russia. It would be a week’s travel by boat, then a few hours by carriage, and the conference would last about a week in itself. All in all, he would be gone for a little under a month. It would be the longest he’d ever been away from Hasetsu without his family, and Yuuri was beginning to feel the slight stirring of nerves in his stomach.

On the docks, the moon shone brightly amidst the dark sky, its reflection in the water rippling as the wind blew. Yuuri’s family—extended and immediate—were standing with him, waiting to see him off.

“We can drop it in your cabin, Yuuri,” Takeshi said, leading him to the lower levels of the ship. Yuuri’s heavy trunk made a dull thunk as they set it down, and he made a mental note to thank Minako-sensei for helping him to strengthen his arms.

“Thanks, Takeshi,” Yuuri said, smiling. “And . . . thanks for coming with me too. It makes me feel a lot better.”

“It’s my job to protect you, Yuuri, especially from yourself,” Takeshi said, grinning. “Can’t leave you alone for a second, let alone three weeks. You’ll start getting stupid, self-depreciating thoughts again and we can’t have that.”

“Takeshi . . .” he mumbled in protest, a little embarrassed.

Nishigori Takeshi was the son of the captain of the guard, and was one of Yuuri’s closest friends. The other was Minako-sensei’s (adopted) daughter, Yuuko, who had married Takeshi six years ago. They currently had three daughters together—triplets—and Yuuri had felt a little bad when he had asked Takeshi to be one of the guards accompanying him to Russia. He knew that neither Takeshi nor Yuuko minded, but Yuuri also knew they’d miss each other terribly.

But back outside the ship, Yuuri hugged and kissed his parents goodbye. They were both wrapped in thick coats, their aging bodies unable to handle the cold as well as they used to. They told him they’d miss him, and Yuuri whispered the same into their arms.

And much to his disapproval, Mari had managed to drag herself out of bed in order to send him off. “Stupid nee-chan,” Yuuri scolded, without heat. “What if you got worse out here? There's snow.”

Mari hugged him tight, her head in the crook of his neck. “Well, I’ve got Minako here,” she joked. “She’ll force-feed me all the gross medicine I’ll need.” Then she held him tighter, and Yuuri wasn't sure if her sniffles were from her sickness or because of something else. “I’ll miss you, little brother.”

“Miss you too,” he whispered.

And to his right, the Nishigoris were saying their farewells.

“Bye, Papa!” the triplets chorused, wrapping their tiny arms around Takeshi’s legs. “We’ll miss you! Don’t let Yuuri-jichan get hurt!”

And Yuuko kissed her husband softly in farewell before giving Yuuri a huge hug. “Go find love,” she said, lightly punching his arm.

“I’ll try,” he laughed, saying the words that had become routine to him.

Since they were kids, Yuuko had been saying the same thing every time Yuuri traveled anywhere, and it meant more to him than she could ever know. She and Takeshi had such an organic love for each other, much like his parents did, and what made it better in Yuuri's perspective was that they weren't even soulmates.

(Because if so many people could find love without being destined for each other . . . well, so would Yuuri, soulmate or not.)

“Hey Yuuri, we’ve gotta go!” Takeshi called, startling him out of his thoughts.

“I-I’m coming!” he shouted back, waving goodbye to everyone as he ran to the ramp.

And with a final smile at his family, Yuuri boarded the ship.

 

* * *

 

They had only been at sea for a few hours, but being mostly alone for an extended period of time gave Yuuri a lot of time to think.

(About those “stupid self-depreciating thoughts,” as Takeshi had aptly described earlier.)

And one such thought was what would happen if he tried to practice his magic _right now?_  But the second was how was Viktor going to react after seeing him for the first time in over four years?

There were many secrets that Katsuki Yuuri kept inside him, and he had just addressed two of them in his wandering thoughts.

One was his soulmark, but the reason it wasn’t common knowledge was because his family had limited the amount of people who knew. Examples would include Minako and Nishigori Ryou, Takeshi’s father. (And their children counted, thank goodness, or else Yuuri would have been driven mad with guilt for keeping such a large secret from his best friends.)

But Yuuri’s magic developed with a bang. Literally. His parents were only thankful that it happened at home, and not in the village where he could’ve been exposed and the damage more irreparable.

After all, he had fire magic: wild and untamable to even the best natural-born witches and wizards. But Yuuri wasn’t most. Yuuri cheerfully took that stereotype and _crushed_ it, having control over his fire that most people would die for by the time he was five years old. It was another small miracle, his parents thought, because they were afraid of what would have happened if they had to send Yuuri to school in the village _without_ that control.

And fact number two about Katsuki Yuuri was a little better-known, but still a little surprising to most: he used to be close friends with Viktor Nikiforov, Russia’s tsesarevich.

 _Best_ friends, even.

He had first met Viktor when they were ten and fourteen respectively at a gala that Yuuri’s parents held in honor of Mari’s coming of age. It only took a tipsy couple, a journey from the food table, and a conveniently-placed Viktor for the two to become fast friends. Yuuri was awkward and shy then—at least, more awkward and shy than he was now—and Viktor was enthusiastic and bright.

A slightly embarrassing conversation then ensued (Yuuri immediately recognized Viktor from the newspaper articles that Minako-sensei gave him about skating, and Viktor didn’t even realize that Yuuri was Hasetsu’s youngest prince and his host to boot), and Viktor tried to make it up to Yuuri by inviting him to Russia during the summer so that they could skate together. Apparently there was a permanently-frozen lake that a sorcerer had made a long time ago, which meant they could skate whenever they wanted to.

Yuuri was hesitant to agree, although he was thrilled at the possible prospect of friendship. Though he had always been interested in skating, he had no idea _how_ , so what if Viktor thought he was a clumsy idiot? (And even worse: what if he accidentally melted the ice, magic lake or not?)

But with a simple glance, Viktor easily saw right through him, assuring Yuuri that _I'll_   _never let you fall, what kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t teach you about one of the things I love most? It’ll be really fun!_

And seeing Viktor plead that earnestly, though he was four years Yuuri’s senior, managed to convince him. He would just have to be in such good control of his magic that no one would suspect a thing!

The first summer together eventually bled into a second, then into a third, until they spent each one with each other. They alternated between Hasetsu and Russia each year, and as Yuuri grew older he realized that Viktor felt more and more like home. He was falling in love. He knew that it was a different feeling than familial love, just as he knew his relationship with Viktor was no longer simply platonic like it was with Yuuko and Takeshi. And he thought that Viktor felt the same way, because after all—they were each other’s first kisses during one experimental summer when Yuuri was nineteen.

Though “the kiss” was never brought up again, Yuuri still hoped, and this hope burned brightly within him with each exchanged letter months after. It was during the end of his twentieth summer (but tenth with his friend) when he decided to give up on the idea of finding his soulmate, and it was then that he confessed to Viktor Nikiforov.

_“Go find love,” Yuuko had told him as she always did before Yuuri left Hasetsu._

And oh . . . _oh_ , he tried.

Because it was in that same moment he was immediately rejected, abandoned as Viktor's boots left only dust in his wake. Yuuri fled the next morning, and despite a few desperate letters of apology ( _I'm sorry, it was a mistake, I still want to be your friend, do you still want to be my friend, please forgive me, please don't_ leave me), he received no replies from Viktor since. So to Yuuri, it seemed that he decided to cut him out of his life because that _one stupid mistake_ and that _devastated_ him, shattering Yuuri’s glass heart into dust.

And his hurt and confused feelings only damaged his connection to his magic. His fire, once burning with strength and power, fizzled out—it was only a cheap imitation of what it used to and could be. No matter what Yuuri did, no matter how much he tried to forget his stupid, silly love, his emotions were still tied to his magic. And deep down, he knew that it would be impossible to completely give up on the person who meant the most to him.

So yes, he and Viktor had a complicated history, which was the reason why Mari was so adamant against Yuuri going to Russia. Honestly, Takeshi and Yuuko had been against this as well, despite Yuuko’s well-wishes for him to “find love." Yuuri's main intention was to prevent his sister's sickness from getting worse, but another, more selfish part of him saw the trip as his one and only chance to see Viktor again and make this right. He didn’t necessarily want their relationship to be romantic anymore; he just wanted his friend back, or at least find closure so he could begin to heal.

And with a sigh, Yuuri pulled his blankets closer and closed his eyes. But he didn't go to sleep until a few hours later.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week soon passed by, and Yuuri would be glad to never step foot on a boat again for a while. When they were docked at Russia’s port, Yuuri dressed himself in the warmest clothing he could find, then joined Takeshi at the side of the ship.

"Afternoon," he murmured.

"It's cold," Takeshi said in greeting. "I’ve gotta go help bring all the crap onto the carriage, so you can go wait in there while I do that.”

“Can I help with anything?”

But he simply nudged Yuuri in the direction of the ramp. “Dad chewed me out when we left because I let you help me carry the trunk onto the ship. Something about ‘respecting the royal family more,’ but thanks, though.”

“. . . All right,” Yuuri reluctantly agreed, wanting Takeshi to get along with his father. “I’ll go wait, then.”

He descended from the ship, his boots _plonking_ against the shaky wood of the ramp. Bare trees were looming around him, looking so much different from the lush green that Yuuri remembered from summer. Come to think of it, he didn’t think he’d _ever_ visited Russia outside of summer. How strange it was to see this familiar, yet unfamiliar, kingdom in a different time; a different season.

The walls of the carriage blocked out most of the wind, so it was marginally warmer inside. But Yuuri still shivered, his breaths escaping his mouth in wisps of steam. He plucked the glove off of his right hand and held it up, trying to channel even a tiny flame for warmth, but the feeling wouldn't come to him. Mari was right, Yuuri thought bitterly, shoving his glove back on. Losing his magic had taken a huge toll on his psyche, feeling analogous to losing one of his senses.

A sudden weight pulled down on the back of the carriage, and Yuuri knew that this was his trunk, along with the customary gift for the host kingdom. He hoped it wouldn’t fall off.

Then a knock on his left startled him.

“Yuuri-ouji,” Minami Kenjirou’s cheerful voice said, “Nishigori-san told me to tell you that we’ll be off soon! Please don’t worry about a thing.”

“Thank you Minami-kun,” Yuuri replied automatically, wondering if it was Takeshi or his father who had sent the younger boy to tell him. Yuuri had interacted briefly with Minami on the ship, remembering the conversation he had had with Kayo. He was surprised that someone so young was traveling somewhere so far, but then Takeshi explained that Minami’s brilliant intuition and reflexes made him invaluable as a soldier.

“He’s _very_ good with a sword,” he had conceded. “Probably as good as me, or even better. Did you know he’s only seventeen?”

That was impressive, Yuuri admitted then, making a mental note to tell Kayo about her son's progress when they returned. It made him wish he’d taken at least _one_ self-defense lesson, but Hasetsu was such a peaceful kingdom he hadn’t felt the need to when he was younger. Maybe he’d ask Takeshi once they got to Russia’s palace . . .

The horses were quickly hooked up to the carriage and without warning, they were moving. The rough dirt trail gave way to a paved road after about a half an hour, and Yuuri perked up when he felt the change. They were almost there. And the _noise_ alerted him to their arrival even before Minami told him a few moments later. Russia’s town was much livelier and more energetic than sleepy Hasetsu, and it had always been so exciting to explore the forest and the city with Viktor every summer because there was something new to discover every time. They were bittersweet memories, but cherished all the same.

Cheerful shouts in Russian echoed around the carriage as they continued in the direction of the palace, and Yuuri’s heart ached, the language reminding him of more such reveries. When the carriage pulled up by the front gates, Yuuri glanced out of the windows again and glimpsed Nishigori-san greeting the person standing there—hey, wait, was that _Yakov?_ He gaped, surprised that the viceroy was standing guard. As they passed, Yuuri impulsively gave a small wave, but faltered when he saw how _shocked_ he looked.

Yuuri grimaced, curling his fists in his lap. He wouldn't be surprised if Yakov knew about what happened between him and Viktor. It had been four years, of _course_ he knew. Besides _Ded—_ er, _Nikolai_ —he was one of Viktor’s most prominent father figures. What was he thinking right now? Was he angry to see him?

“Yuuri.” Takeshi pulled up the the side of the carriage, and his voice, low and soothing, whispered through the window. “It’s fine—Dad was just telling him that you’re here instead of Mari. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh. Thanks, Takeshi,” Yuuri mumbled, feeling stupid for worrying over something to small.

“It’s fine, I just got worried because I knew _you’d_ be worried,” Takeshi admitted.

But Yuuri didn’t respond, his stomach doing flips. It was only the day before the conference and he was already being an inconvenience . . . hadn’t he told Mari that he wanted to become stronger? He could hear Takeshi continuing and saying something about a few hours rest before dinner, but Yuuri tuned him out as soon as he said the last few words. He anxiously twisted his fingers together. Yuuri couldn’t mess this up and bring shame on his family, who were all counting on him to keep Hasetsu dependable and trustworthy in the eyes of the other nations. A weak leader meant a weak kingdom, and he _couldn’t mess this up._

The hours blurred together, and Yuuri’s nerves only increased as he suddenly found himself standing behind the set of closed doors that he _knew_ led to the throne room. He could tell that his hair was slicked back, and he saw that he was wearing the deep blue suit jacket that Yuuko said looked really nice on him, but he could feel himself shaking badly enough he might drop the jar of magenta dye he was holding. As his gift, that wouldn't be a good thing at all.

“Yuuri, are you ready?” Georgi asked gently, touching his shoulder like he was afraid he was going to shatter. Last time Yuuri remembered, Georgi had been in training to serve the royal family as chamberlain, and well, it looked like he got the job. But Yuuri merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He really regretted not wearing his glasses, he mused as he straightened his posture, trying to exude an easy confidence. There would be nothing to hide behind now.

The doors then opened and bright light flooded Yuuri’s eyes. (He'd forgotten there were stairs . . . what if he tripped?) And although his vision was blurry, his gaze was automatically drawn to Viktor’s, who was standing by the three thrones with his mother and younger brother. Yuuri stared at him, unable to look away.

(Was that _surprise_ on Viktor’s face? He couldn’t tell.)

Georgi’s voice then boomed:

_“REPRESENTING THE KINGDOM OF HASETSU AND QUEEN KATSUKI MARI, HER YOUNGER BROTHER—PRINCE KATSUKI YUURI!”_

Yuuri stepped forward at the proclamation and gulped, his cheeks flaming and his palms sweaty. _Oh . . ._ he thought dazedly to himself as he descended the stairs. _I guess . . . I guess he didn’t expect_ _me_ _to be here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. I just love the Katsuki sibling dynamic and I wish it was more fleshed out in the anime. Just . . . please give me more overprotective Mari.
> 
> 2\. Let's just pretend that there are countries within a short distance of each other that are called Russia and Japan. I'm not using our actual world here, so hopefully such a travel time is believable.
> 
> 3\. Yuuri's very unsure about himself. He's actually a really competent diplomat and is really good at putting others at ease, but he's just very anxious about coming to Russia again especially after what happened last time. He had his heart broken and he's had time to heal, and he's trying to be brave, but in reality he's low-key terrified about seeing Viktor again. And what does Viktor think? I guess we'll see eventually.
> 
> Translations:
> 
>  _Joou Heika:_ Her Majesty, the Queen  
>  -ouji: honorific for prince, much like how _-hime_ is for princess  
>  Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this! :D


	3. Breakthrough

~~~~As he made his way down the staircase, Yuuri had never felt more grateful for Minako and Lilia’s instructions in ballet than he did now. His knees were shaking with each step, but his years of experience kept him poised and upright. He may not be exactly floating down the stairs, but he would damn well try to look it.

The palace’s throne room also served as a ballroom, he remembered as he glanced up at the balcony where musicians would normally be playing. Past the carpeted staircase, the floors were made of smooth hardwood, polished and shining, with the bright flickering from the chandelier above reflecting off them.

With only a little bit of anxiety, Yuuri returned his gaze to his hosts, his grip tightening around the clear glass jar that held the dye. As he finally reached the foot of the stairs and made his way to the thrones, he could feel the liquid inside sloshing around a little.

Only Nadia was sitting, her sons standing tall next to her, but she stood proudly once Yuuri bowed his head to them.

When Yuuri straightened and saw the Russian royal family up close, he was shocked to see (but actually not that surprised when he thought about it) that Yuri had definitely grown in the years he hadn’t visited. He was fifteen now—Yuuri and Yuuko had been sending presents to him each year—and was a far cry from the tiny twelve-year-old with a bowl cut. Yuuri could tell that his features were blurring now, caught between the softness of a child and the sharpness of a young man. Looking away from Yuri, he felt a pang of sadness that he’d missed so much.

“Welcome to Russia, esteemed guest,” Nadia said crisply as soon as Yuuri met her eyes. “We are glad to have you here.”

In contrast, Yuri’s greeting was “Yo, Katsudon” and Yuuri had to smile at that.

“Hello, Yurio.”

Looking back at Nadia (and steadfastly ignoring the other presence to her right), Yuuri had always thought that she was the epitome of what a queen should look like. Not that his mother nor Mari weren’t ideal queens, but Nadia Nikiforova had an effortless grace about her; it was something that just commanded automatic respect from those who saw her. The tsarina's long dark hair was in a twist tonight, and her ice-blue eyes were accentuated with just a hint of makeup. Like Minako, age didn’t seem to touch her. She must have been in her fifties, but Nadia still radiated regality and strength in the way she held herself—every inch a queen.

“Thank you for having me,” Yuuri murmured, bowing again. “I also apologize for the surprise change in attendance, so please accept my kingdom’s gift—a jar of our finest magenta dye.”

“It’s no problem at all,” she said in reply, her voice warmer and more familiar once the traditional greetings were out of the way. “And the color is beautiful.” Yuuri looked up in shock to see a gentle smile on Nadia’s face, and oh, she was welcoming him _back_.

(He wouldn’t cry. He _wouldn’t_.)

As Nadia took the jar from Yuuri’s hands, he took that moment to glance at Viktor, but immediately averted his gaze when he saw that Viktor was still staring intently at him. Warmth began to creep up his neck, and if Yuuri’s magic hadn’t left him, he’d be worried about spontaneously combusting into flames.

(But Viktor’s eyes still felt like home. Yuuri wondered how it would feel in his arms, but immediately shook that thought away. Affection was a dangerous thing.)

“Are you coming tonight?” Nadia asked him, her eyes hopeful, and Yuuri startled before giving a slight—albeit jerky—nod.

“A-Ah, yes. Of course.”

There was always a small welcoming feast the evening of everyone’s arrival—a light prelude to the week of meetings. It was a way for everyone to decompress after their travels, meet other nations, and maybe even form alliances.

Yuuri wasn’t sure who was going to be at this year’s conference, though—he’d be lucky if a familiar face showed up to the dinner.

He walked quickly out of the throne room after that, feeling suffocated by his suit. His fingers were scrabbling at the collar, shaky little breaths only barely filling his lungs. Only one tiny _look_  at Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri already felt as if he was going to fall apart. As he escaped back to his room and locked the door with shaking hands (it was actually the same one he’d been staying in during his childhood visits and Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was some sort of cruel joke or not), he asked himself why he hadn’t given an excuse to not attend the feast. He could’ve saved himself the trouble of socializing before he was ready and not be this stuttering mess of a human.

Yuuri flopped onto the bed and curled into the blankets, hugging the pillows close. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, hunkered down under a large mass of soft fabric, but a soft knock on the door made his eyes fly open, his heart pounding. He blinked, disoriented, realizing that he’d fallen asleep. What time was it? He reached for his glasses on the side table, and kicked off all the blankets and pillows on him, diving off of the bed and over to his trunk.

The knocking became more insistent. “Um, please wait a moment!” Yuuri called anxiously, pawing through his luggage for something suitable for the dinner later. Could he just ditch it and fall asleep again, blaming his exhaustion? He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

(But he’d promised Nadia. He couldn’t disappoint her.)

“Yuuuuuuri! Let me in!”

Yuuri paused, his head turning to the closed door. It couldn’t be.

He scrambled to his feet and hurried to unlock it, and his suspicion on who was at the door was confirmed.

“. . . Phichit?”

Yuuri only glimpsed jubilant dark eyes and a flash of white teeth against tanned skin before he was tackled into a hug. The sound of his name was sung in his ear and warm arms wrapped around him.

“Phichit!”

Oh, this was _wonderful._ He hadn’t seen Phichit in so long, and letters could only express so much; Yuuri couldn’t help but squeeze his friend just as tightly and laugh at his enthusiasm.

“I heard from Guang-hong that he thought he saw you here earlier, and when I found Takeshi I just _had_ to ask him where your room was, and I just  _can’t believe you’re here!”_ Phichit was rambling, tripping over his words with his excitement, and Yuuri’s smile softened at how much he had missed him. They sat down on the bed, the springs squeaking softly because of Phichit’s bouncing. “How’s Mari?" he asked. "And your parents? Are they here too?”

Yuuri shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Nope, just me. Nee-chan’s—er, _Mari,_ " he corrected, "wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to come to the conference instead of her.”

“I see,” Phichit replied, looking thoughtful. “But hey,” he continued, brightening, “at least you get to come to Russia outside of summer for once! I know you said in your letters that you’ve been too busy at Hasetsu to see Viktor—or _me_ , actually, now that I think about it—so this’ll be really fun.”

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise in reply, heart sinking as he realized he’d actually never _told_ Phichit about he and Viktor’s falling-out. It had been four years since and Yuuri had gotten over it somewhat, but something like this was better told in person than through letters. And how could Yuuri have written, “ _O_ _h by the way Viktor hates me now because I told him that I loved him_ ” in a _letter?_

Yuuri was so bad at communicating . . .

Phichit—who was always adept at reading Yuuri’s mood—picked up on the changed expression and looked at him, brows already knitting together in that ever-familiar expression of concern. “Yuuri. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, finding himself unable to meet Phichit’s eyes because if he did, then _everything_ would spill out and Yuuri couldn’t burden him with his stupid worries. He tried for a reassuring smile. “Just tired. You know how long trips are.”

The excuse was weak and both he and _especially_ Phichit knew it, based on the way the other turned that kicked-puppy look on him. “Yuuri, you know I hate when you lie to me.”

He could only look back at Phichit, staring searchingly and only finding love and trust in his eyes.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” his friend asked again softly as they looked at each other.

“ _Okay”_ was such a subjective term. It could mean “ _yeah I'm fine I'm not feeling great but it's still a really good day”_ or it could be a simple cover-up for “ _I'm feeling awful please see that I'm lying and help me”_ and Yuuri was leaning more towards the latter than the former.

Perhaps Yuuri was feeling too strongly about his first love (because _everyone_ knewthat first loves didn't last and here Yuuri was,  _still pining over his_ ), but there was something deep inside that told him that Viktor was _the one._ Not his soulmate—that would be absolutely _ridiculous_ , there was no chance of that happening—but someone he knew would love every single part of him, even the parts that he hated.

But Yuuri was _terrified._ He’d spent so much time with Viktor that the feeling would never truly go away. Would he admit then, that he was still in love? Thinking of the other's bright eyes, heart-shaped smile, and warm personality, Yuuri made his decision.

Yes. He would.

 _I’m in love with Viktor Nikiforov,_ he told himself, and it was just another part of Yuuri's being. 

  1. Katsudon was his favorite food.
  2. Blue was his favorite color.
  3. Yuuri was in love with Viktor Nikiforov.



Plain and simple.

"Phichit, I need your help," Yuuri confessed.

At his whispered words, Phichit reached over and took Yuuri's hands. “Okay, then. Talk to me.”

Phichit was a wonderful listener, and his shoulder soon became wet with the tears that Yuuri finally allowed himself to shed over his lost love. He cried over the loss of his magic, his insecurities about his soulmate, and everything he was too scared to tell his family back home.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered with tears of his own. He was always such an empathetic person. “You should’ve written me. I would’ve sailed over to Hasetsu immediately if I’d known.”

“I know,” Yuuri mumbled into Phichit’s shoulder. “I was just being stupid.”

“Maybe just a little bit,” he teased, reaching out to rub Yuuri’s shoulder comfortingly. They’d lain down on the bed at some point, pulling the blankets over themselves with only their heads peeking out. The warmth and safety of his friend’s presence had made it so much easier for Yuuri to talk about this.

“I do think that you should talk to him at some point this week,” Phichit ventured later, sounding cautious. “You won't get another opportunity like this again, but . . . you need to move on if he really doesn’t feel the same.”

He silently agreed, but he still felt a twinge of anxiety when he thought about talking to Viktor. What did he think of Yuuri when he first saw him in the throne room? They didn’t say one word to each other—even Yuri had grunted out a semblance of a greeting, and Nadia of course had talked to him the entire time. How could they go from not talking at all, to something that had blown Yuuri's heart to bits?

“Well,” Phichit said after a beat, pushing himself upright with his hands, “why don’t you take a bath before changing for dinner tonight? We can walk down together with my dad, and I’ll be with you for as long as you want.”

Yuuri felt the corners of his mouth lift into a grin. “I’d like that.”

Phichit‘s answering smile was full of sunshine. “I’ll come by in an hour.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner was quiet. Everyone had arrived, according to the tsarina, but there were a few that had opted out of the socialization in favor of sleeping off the time differences. Yuuri picked at his dish, not feeling particularly hungry. Phichit, of course, was sitting next to him and whispering commentary about the royals in attendance. Yuuri had to try very hard to not burst out into laughter at some of it—he had his country’s reputation in his hands, after all.

“I should probably bring Dad something later,” Phichit later mused, eyeing the _pelmeni_. “He’ll probably be hungry.”

Phichit's father hadn't come along with them as his friend had previously thought and instead was currently resting in their rooms, the king feeling too tired to come to dinner. It was common practice to bring the heir to the kingdom along to the conferences in order to become exposed to the dealings of international relationships, and Yuuri and Mari had often come with their parents before Mari was coronated.

“When’s Leo coming back?” Ji Guang-hong, who was sitting across from them, wondered. Though he was only seventeen, Guang-hong was actually the emperor of his nation. His parents were quite old, his mother conceiving him late in life, so they had recently stepped down due to age. There were no marriage prospects for the young ruler yet, but Yuuri could see those not-so-secretive side-glances going on between him and the son of the American diplomat.

Said son soon returned from the bathroom and slid back into his chair next to Guang-hong. And judging from the light blush on Guang-hong’s face, Leo had probably squeezed his hand under the table.

Yuuri lifted his head again to search for Takeshi, smiling a little when he saw his friend sitting at a nearby table and happily challenging the off-duty Russian guards to a drink-off. He had offered for Takeshi to sit with him and Phichit and the others, but he had declined, admitting that he didn’t feel comfortable sitting with all the “fancy people.”

(“Hasetsu’s really the only place where I can let myself sit with the royal family,” Takeshi had said when they walked into the ballroom. “Sorry, Yuuri.”

“Oh. That’s fine,” he had replied back, worrying that he’d forced Takeshi a little too out of his element. “Are you gonna be okay?”

But Takeshi laughed, looking completely carefree. “Yeah, _someone’s_ gotta keep an eye on Kenjirou-kun and make sure he doesn’t accidentally get into the alcohol.”)

Light music was playing in the background, tonight's dinner taking place at the sides of the ballroom. For the rest of the week, though, all meals would be in the dining hall.

Yuuri knew that everyone would be dancing later, but he wondered if he’d be able to slip out before then. He looked up from his bowl of _borscht_ to see who else had come, but a flash of silver made him stare back down at his mostly-full plate and meekly accept the glass of champagne that a nearby server had passed to him.

His appetite grew a little, though, as the entrées were replaced with dessert, his weakness for sweet things making him indulge a little more than he normally would’ve. With a sigh at his full stomach, he knew that Minako-sensei was _definitely_ going to work him hard on the barre once he got home.

Once the dessert was long gone, the music slowly changed into something more upbeat and lively. The tsarina soon left after that, wishing them a good night and to enjoy the rest of their evening as she was feeling tired. Her sons, however, stayed.

When Nadia left, most of the remaining guests stood up to enjoy the music and festivities before the conference tomorrow. From his spot, Yuuri glimpsed the Crispino twins dancing with each other before the sister, Sara, twirled away to dance with Mila Babicheva, the only female knight in Russia’s guard. And as for Takeshi, he had left a while ago, letting Yuuri know before he left for bed.

Minami was somewhere. Yuuri couldn’t tell where he had gone, but he hoped he was fine. The bubbly boy tended to get easily exhausted late at night.

Another glass of champagne was set in front of him, but Yuuri already felt a little tipsy, having downed more than a few glasses after the first one. Phichit, Leo, and Guang-hong had left him in favor of dancing (all _completely_ sober by the way because they weren’t old enough to drink and _wow,_ he was friends with such young people how did that happen?), and Yuuri stayed in his spot, alone, content with watching the royals whirl by.

He might’ve felt the slightest urge to get up and dance himself, but Yuuri wasn’t drunk enough to allow himself to let loose. Instead, he hummed along with the music, swaying to the beat in his chair.

At least, until he blinked and a tall man with silver hair and eyes as blue as the ocean was suddenly standing in front of him.

Yuuri blinked again and immediately registered that this beautiful man was _Viktor,_ the man Yuuri was in love with— _still_ was in love with—and his heart was _broken_ because of this person he needed to get away from him—

But then Viktor smiled again, gently, and asked him if he wanted to dance. At that, the rest of Yuuri’s inhibitions melted because how could he turn this brilliant, otherworldly, _breathtaking_ human away? After all, there was so much he could’ve done in that moment. He could’ve said no, could’ve ignored him, _could’ve could’ve could’ve._ But he was drunk and he was lovesick, and that sort of combination could only lead Yuuri to take the most dangerous route and lace his own hand with Viktor’s.

“Okay,” Yuuri whispered, letting himself be pulled into something that could only be a dream.

All eyes were on them, but for once Yuuri didn’t care. He was with Viktor, and only Viktor’s eyes mattered to him. Their bodies moved seamlessly together, and a lovely smile burst sunnily on Viktor’s face when Yuuri suddenly took the lead in their dance and dipped him. The love that had remained dormant was now rushing back full-force, and Yuuri wanted to cry at the _rightness_ that was in his soul when he was in Viktor’s arms, and Yuuri in his. It was like a piece of him Yuuri didn’t even know he’d been missing had returned.

They were both laughing as the music became faster, and tears began to sting Yuuri’s eyes.

Viktor then cupped his face so gently, so tenderly, and Yuuri’s confused heart felt so full that it was going to burst. Why was Viktor acting this way? Didn't he hate him? But all the work Yuuri did to protect himself crumbled with that one touch, and so did the control holding back his tears.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked. “What’s wrong?”

His face was so full of concern that Yuuri wept even harder. How could he tell Viktor that he was still in love with him? And before he knew it, Viktor was leading him out of the ballroom and into the hallway. “Yuuri. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

And seeing Viktor’s face, looking so earnest and soft and beautiful, something inside him broke.

“I _missed_ you,” Yuuri choked, pouring all of his tumultuous feelings in those three little words. He clutched Viktor’s shirt and sobbed into it, his snot and tears probably ruining the expensive fabric, but Viktor only held him close, running a hand through Yuuri’s gelled hair.

Wet droplets suddenly fell on Yuuri’s shoulder, startling him. He met Viktor’s gaze, stunned to see pearly tears falling from his eyes, and the only thing he could do was lift his hand up to move the curtain of silver hair away from Viktor’s face.

“You’re crying,” Yuuri said, not knowing what else to say. (After all, Viktor Nikiforov crying wasn't an everyday occurrence. As for Katsuki Yuuri . . . that was a different story.)

“I am,” Viktor agreed after, laughing thickly. “And I missed you too.”

And without warning, Viktor leaned in close and kissed him, making Yuuri’s eyes widen.

_Wait, what? What was happening?_

Yuuri didn't understand what was happening. The kiss was full of desperation, their tears making it feel a little damp and a little gross, but the worst thing about it was that he  _liked_ it. He _enjoyed_ the feeling of Viktor’s lips on his, the playful swipe of Viktor's tongue, but it was all _wrong._ A memory bubbled up:

  

> _“Sorry, Yuuri, but can you go? I . . . I need some time alone for a while.”_

 

Yuuri thought—he _thought—_

He shoved Viktor forcefully away and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“. . . Yuuri?”

“ _Why now?_ ” he demanded, his fists shaking at his sides and a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks. “Are you making fun of me?”

Viktor looked stunned. “What? _No_ , I—”

“Four years ago you told me to _leave_ ,” Yuuri hissed, his soulmark seeming to burn at his anger. "You never wrote back no matter _how_ many letters I sent." Normally he would feel awful because of the stricken look that crossed Viktor’s face at Yuuri’s biting words, and maybe it was the alcohol amplifying his already-rattled emotions, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. “You told me you didn’t love me, and now you do? I’m _not_ going to fall for that!"

The last words had slipped out in Japanese, but the harsh tone made it perfectly clear what Yuuri had said; Viktor looked like he’d been slapped, and the angry words may very well have been a blow in themselves.

Viktor swallowed, something akin to sorrow radiating from every part of his body. “I wished I could've taken back those words every day you were gone,” he whispered long after Yuuri’s shouts finished echoing in the empty hallway. “Mama yelled at me for wasting so much ink and paper the months after, but they were full of apologies that I wasn't sure you would've accepted. I . . . I saved all your letters.”

Yuuri’s anger slowly faded, though his body was still shaking with leftover adrenaline. “That's why you never wrote me back?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“Yes," Viktor said heavily. "And I'm so, _so_ sorry, Yuuri." He hesitantly reached his hand out again to Yuuri’s face, and when he didn't turn away, Viktor gently swiped the leftover tears away with his thumb. “My biggest regret and mistake was letting you walk out of my life.”

Yuuri sniffed once before roughly throwing his arms around Viktor and squeezing him tightly. “We’re stupid,” he mumbled into Viktor’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” Viktor agreed, running a hand through Yuuri’s hair again. “But me most of all—I wasted my whole life waiting for a love the world had decided for me when he was with me the entire time.”

Hearing those words, Yuuri froze, thinking of the silver feather on his skin. They sounded hauntingly familiar to a mindset he himself carried. It would be a stretch, but it would explain so much of Viktor's actions.

“Do you have a soulmate?” Yuuri blurted, looking up at Viktor. The other's eyes widened at his question before he closed them and sighed.

“. . . Yeah,” he said quietly, still holding him tight. “It was a little idealistic, but I used to think I’d eventually find my soulmate and fall in love with them, and those thoughts prevented me from finding love for myself. I let the person I cared about the most go when he told me he loved me.”

There it was again. Viktor said that he loved him.

“I—I still do,” Yuuri whispered, the words coming out of their own accord. “But do you really want _me?_ ”

Viktor let him go and smiled gently, his blue eyes shining. “Oh, _lyubov_ ”—and the tender word made Yuuri's heart skip a beat— “haven't you realized? You're the one I want to spend my the rest life with.”

Yuuri didn’t answer at first, reeling at the honest admission. He was so overwhelmed—was this how Viktor had felt when Yuuri first told him he was in love with him? The thought made him laugh, though. It seemed as if they both weren’t very great at handling confessions.

“Why are you laughing?” Viktor asked, looking worried, and Yuuri realized that his actions had been taken the wrong way.

“We’re uh, _really_ bad at accepting confessions,” Yuuri choked out, still laughing. “And communicating.”

“Oh,” Viktor said, mirth shining in his eyes. “You’re right.”

Yuuri smiled at him then. The alcohol had somewhat worked its way out of his system, and he was feeling a little more clear-minded. Hearing Viktor’s explanations (and later confession) straightened out a lot of the questions Yuuri had.

“I’m still mad at you for not talking to me for four years, though. It'll take a lot for me to forgive you,” Yuuri warned, hugging him again. “I was entirely convinced that you _hated_ me.”

“I could never hate you, Yuuri,” Viktor said, his hug impossibly warm. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Yuuri tilted his head up, decision finally made. “Well, you have all eternity to make it up to me,” he mumbled, his mouth already against Viktor’s lips.

This time, the kiss was chaste and sweet and utterly perfect.

“Now _that's_  what our first kiss should've been like,” Viktor said approvingly, pulling away and smiling.

But Yuuri scoffed at that. “Who actually knows how many times we’ve kissed? Remember that time when we got drunk and made out?”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “You’re right—I forgot about that!”

“Of course you did _,_ ” Yuuri said affectionately.

Later, Viktor walked with Yuuri to bring him back to his room for the night. “ _Oyasumi_ , Viktor,” Yuuri said, turning around as he opened the door.

“ _Spokoynoy nochi_ , Yuuri,” Viktor returned, giving him one last kiss before leaving.

As he fell asleep that night, Yuuri’s soulmark still felt like it was burning, punishing him for choosing a love that wasn’t even his. But he was _happy,_ he told himself, and shook away those thoughts and any remaining doubts that he had about sincerity of Viktor’s own feelings. He’d apologized countless times, and admitted that he’d give up even his _soulmate_ to be the one that Yuuri loved. It was hard to give up a way of thinking you’d had for years—he knew that from experience.

Nothing could be more complicated than reconciliation, Yuuri thought, but he was wrong.

So, so wrong. 

Because the _real_ story started when Yuuri woke up the next morning with an ink-black feather on his chest curling naturally around the original.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. (search for the ships lol)
> 
> 2\. Why didn't Yuuri and Viktor's soulmarks complete themselves when they drunkenly kissed each other four years ago? Stupid Viktor wasn't aware of his feelings and therefore had no desire to spend the rest of his life with Yuuri yet. Feelings in tandem with each other are such powerful things, and that's why communication's important, kids!!1!!1!1!
> 
> 3\. I love Phichit. He's such a good friend and I intend to make him knock some sense into Yuuri repeatedly throughout the story.
> 
> 4\. And um, Viktor and Yuuri's talk was originally a lot sweeter and fluffier than it is now, but then my brain was like, _Make it angstier! More conflict! More tears! Misunderstandings!!! Normal people don't just accept apologies for something that had deeply hurt them!_ And then another 2000 or so words were added to the chapter bc I gave in to my mind's demands lol
> 
> 5\. Our lovely friend from the prologue is still in the background, so don't forget about him~
> 
> Translations:  
> \- _oyasumi_ : good night  
> \- _spokoynoy nochi_ : also means good night


	4. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently you can share this story on Tumblr? 
> 
> ~~So if you wanna spread the love, please hit that button up there ( ´ ♡ ` )~~

Yuuri was on fire when he woke up the next morning.

Literally.

Any trace of sleepiness vanished as the warmth washed over him, and he screamed as he leapt out of bed. Yuuri had never been burned before (even when the connection to his magic had been closed off) but there was a first time for everything. The fire on his body was beginning to border the line between tolerable and painful, and he knew that he needed to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Yuuri’s hands were splayed as he swept them along the bedspread and his body to catch the flames within his palms, and he winced as the heat bit mercilessly into the soft flesh. _Shit_ , it hurt a lot more than he thought it would—but he couldn’t be weak and relinquish the control he'd just gained. Yuuri gazed intently at the fire cupped in his hands, forcing his will over it. This was _his_ magic—he _knew_ it was—and there was no one who knew this element better than he could.

 _You are_ mine, he thought, imagining the flames disappearing before his eyes.

And his panic subsided somewhat as he watched the fire fade from bright blue to muted orange before _finally_ melting away into pure energy. Yuuri sighed in relief as it absorbed into his skin, but that was when the realization kicked in.

That was his magic.

That was his _magic._

How could that have happened? Was it because of—?

“ _Crap,_ ” Yuuri swore again, catching the state of the bedsheets out of the corner of his eye. Because he liked looking at the stars before he slept, the curtains were already open and allowed the sunrise to stream over the covers and illuminate them in their ruined glory. The fire must have eaten away at them before Yuuri was able to remove it and as a result, large, smoking holes were peppered all over the beautifully woven fabric. (Trying to explain _that_ to the attendants was going to be a fun time, he thought, frustrated.) And when he glanced down at himself as he opened the window to clear the air, Yuuri grimly noted that his nightclothes had suffered the same fate.

He reached for his glasses and sat back down on the bed, hearing the springs groan and the sheets crunch underneath his weight. Letting out a distressed sound of his own, Yuuri buried his head in his hands. Thankfully he hadn’t been burnt, but Yuuri could still feel a phantom ache from where the bluebell flames had danced across his skin.

And that was another thing. He’d never been able to create _blue_ fire before. Was that just a one-time thing because his magic had been suppressed for so long? Or were the flames going to be blue from here on out?

Hmm, speaking of, he needed to release that excess energy from earlier at some point so he didn't get overheated . . .

So Yuuri lifted his head up and glanced at the door. It seemed quiet. And with a deep breath, he raised his pointer finger and searched for the familiar pull of heat in his stomach. Much to his surprise, it was _there_  like it never left. Yuuri smiled at the familiar sensation of warmth under his skin traveling up the length of his finger, and it culminated in a tiny blue flame blooming from the tip. It flickered there, like some strange candle, but Yuuri loved it. His bond with his magic, this integral piece of his being, was finally part of him again. And he was fully in control this time, so the fire didn't hurt in the slightest.

His bedroom door suddenly bursting open, though, startled Yuuri to the point of losing his grasp on the little fire and accidentally making it explode into harmless sparks.

“ _YUURI, ARE YOU OKAY? I HEARD YELLING!”_ a voice roared.

And another, younger voice: “ _YUURI-OUJI!!”_

“T-Takeshi?” he yelped, his head whipping around to see him standing in the doorway. “Minami-kun?” His heartbeat sped right past what was considered healthy, and thumped heavily against his chest. Did they see?

And it seemed that Takeshi did, his wild gaze finally settling on Yuuri himself and taking in his wide eyes and singed clothes. Yuuri was frozen, only able to weakly gesture at the faint smoke in the room.

“Kenjirou-kun, I’ve got this,” Takeshi rushed to say, eyes darting frantically between Yuuri and the young soldier behind him who was attempting to break into the room.

“But Nishigori-san—”

“I’m fine, Minami-kun,” Yuuri called in an effort to get him to leave because Minami couldn’t see him like this. He couldn't know. “I just had a nightmare, but it’s okay now.”

 _Being “burned alive”_ could _count as a nightmare,_ Yuuri reasoned to himself, feeling bad for lying to him. _Even_ if _I was awake when it happened. So a daymare?_

“Ah, okay!” Minami replied, the worry now gone from his tone. “ _Ohayo gozaimasu,_ Yuuri-ouji!”

“ _Ohayo,_ ” he said back, laughing a little.

“Damn, that was close,” Takeshi gasped, sheathing his sword and closing the door behind him. “I thought I’d have to block the door with my body so he wouldn’t see the smoke. It’s unbelievable how much Kenjirou-kun adores you. What did you do to the kid?”

“Ah . . . we cook together sometimes whenever Okaa-san or Kayo-san can’t,” Yuuri admitted, his voice a low mumble. “He’s started helping me recently.”

Then a knowing smirk spread across Takeshi’s face, and Yuuri froze. He _knew_ that look. “Don’t say it,” he said quickly, but Takeshi had already sung “ _Papa Yuuuuuuri”_ by the time the words left his mouth.

Yuuri sighed, rubbing the still-smoking sheets. “Thanks for keeping him out, though,” he then said.

“Was that your magic?” Takeshi asked, still standing by the door. “I mean, that’s what I thought—”

“It was a surprise to me too,” Yuuri said, staring at his hands. “But I talked to Viktor last night, so maybe making up with him got rid of my mental block on it.”

That was probably what had happened, he supposed. It only made sense that reconciling with Viktor after that misunderstanding was what fixed things.

“Made up or made _out?_ ” Takeshi then crowed, pouncing upon the opportunity to tease Yuuri further. “Wait, is it okay to talk about that yet?” he hastened to say, seeing Yuuri’s appalled expression. “Tell me if I went too far.”

“You did, now _stop,_ ” Yuuri griped, throwing himself back-first on the bed. “And you’re awful,” he added, grumbling, and at that Takeshi’s smirk reappeared.

“I _guess_ Viktor Nikiforov’s sunk a little lower on my kill list,” he continued unhelpfully. “Are you getting married yet?”

“ _Takeshi!”_ Yuuri cried, flushing, but the other simply laughed. “I don’t know what Yuu-chan _ever_ saw in you,” he complained, burying his head in a pillow.  

“Well, lemme know if you need help putting out any magical fires, okay?” Takeshi offered, still laughing as he turned around to open the door. “ _Or_ offing any Russian heirs.”

Yuuri was _definitely_ going to explode now, keeping his magic a secret be damned. “Get _out!_ ” he groaned, chucking the pillow at the closing door. It hit the wood with a satisfying thud, though it fell pathetically to the floor, and for some strange reason incensed Yuuri further. He then stood up and stalked over to his trunk, yanking out a set of clothes for the day and tossing them onto his bed. As he fished out his blue robe and draped it over his arm, Yuuri swore that he was going to _kill_ Takeshi at breakfast today, and that Minami was going to replace him as his personal guard.

But he had to get ready first. Yuuri appraised his ruined blankets for a moment before half-heartedly smoothing them out with one hand, then slipped out of his room and to the baths. He knew a lost cause when he saw one (after all, he saw one every time he looked in a mirror), and he really needed a nice, long soak to unwind after a morning like he had.

Russia’s baths were similar to Hasetsu’s onsens, though much larger and much more ornate. It was indoors, for one thing, and though the large windows were supposed to aerate the space a bit, steam still billowed into Yuuri’s face and fogged his glasses as soon as he stepped inside. And the humidity nearly choked him, but Yuuri soldiered on. He wasn’t a fire user for nothing. He could handle a little humidity.

To the side of the pool-like tub, he toed off his sandals and set them to the side. His robe and glasses soon joined them. The marble floor under Yuuri's feet was slippery with condensation, and he made sure not to fall as he stepped carefully into the water. Countless sweet-smelling soaps and lotions were stored in a nearby glass case, and Yuuri had already taken his favorite cherry blossom shampoo when he first walked into the room. Call him a sap (heh), but the scent reminded him of the flowers that would bloom all around Hasetsu in the springtime.

The water felt heavenly on Yuuri’s sweat-sticky skin, and he was glad that the rest of the bath was empty since it was so early in the morning. Yes, the baths here also were communal, but even so it was still extremely awkward to bathe in the presence of other people. (Yuuri had actually seen more of his father than he’d like to admit, and was understandably traumatized by that.) He knew that he’d probably _have_ to get up this early for the rest of the conference if he wanted this privacy, and absently rubbed the place where his soulmark was. Not only did he want the solitude, he _needed_ it. He knew and trusted everyone here (even JJ, albeit reluctantly), but he couldn’t be _too_ careful.

Yuuri let himself soak for a few more minutes, listening to the sound of the water shifting as he did. It was calming. The heat from the room drove out all of his worries (at least for now), and Yuuri sighed blissfully as he sank deep enough into the water that only his head remained above it.

After a bit more time passed, Yuuri sat up, knowing that he would actually have to clean himself before anyone else walked in on him. He then cupped some of the warm water with his hands and poured it over his head, unwilling to fully submerge himself. Once he deemed his hair wet enough, Yuuri began to lather the shampoo into his scalp.

(And for a brief second, imagined what it would feel like to have someone else rake their fingers through his hair before roughly expunging that fantasy from his mind.)

Yuuri cleaned and robed himself as fast as he could after that, removing himself from the room just as someone else walked in. He didn't stay long enough to find out who would've joined him in the baths—Yuuri didn’t think he could handle meeting their eyes during the conference today if he did.

By the time Yuuri returned to his room, he was glad to discover that the sheets were no longer smoking. He tossed his ruined pajamas onto the bed to join his clean clothes before turning around to face the full-length mirror. It was one of Yuuri’s stranger quirks—he hated looking at his body’s reflection, but _had_ to change in front of one if there was a mirror present in the room. It was a form of self-inflicted punishment, Yuuri thought hopelessly, gazing at himself with a frown as he untied the knot keeping the robe closed. He was about to let his eyes roam over his body as he always did, critical thoughts bubbling to the surface of his mind at the softness of his belly and roundness of his cheeks, but a dark shape on his chest (where his _soulmark_ was) wiped those thoughts away.

What was _that?_

Yuuri stepped closer to the mirror, close enough that his breath fogged the glass, and simply stared. There was another mark there—a black feather brushing against the silver one. He had never thought the word _incomplete_ when looking at the original, but with the other mark by its side the entire thing definitely seemed whole now. Almost dream-like, Yuuri raised his hand up to brush his fingers over the new feather, unable to comprehend this new revelation. How had he not noticed something like this in the baths? He'd read stories about soulmates and soulmarks, but because of the scarcity of cases it was hard to find what was real and what was fabricated for stories.

But here Yuuri was, standing naked in the middle of a Russian winter, staring at what was most definitely a completed soulmark. _What could have caused it?_ he asked himself, but the pieces fell together as soon as he did.

It had to be Viktor.

That burning sensation he’d felt while they had kissed last night wasn't his imagination at all—it was the second half of his soulmark etching itself onto his skin.

But instead of feeling happy, he felt a strange sense of foreboding, the warmth from his bath immediately flowing away. Yesterday was one of the best days of his life, but of _course_ Yuuri's mind had to whisper dark things to him— _you were both drunk it’s not real it was a mistake he doesn’t love you he pities you you’re an obligation you’re unlovable unlovable unlovable—_ but Yuuri did his best to shut out those thoughts. It was dumb to think about that when he knew Viktor’s true feelings.

(But still he wondered, ripping his eyes away from the mirror.)

Yuuri was in a bit of a daze as he finished dressing himself and wandered down to the dining hall. The doors were already open, so he quietly went in to go seat himself, smiling at Phichit and his father as they passed by him.

Phichit sent him a concerned look—maybe he’d let too much show in that smile—but Yuuri waved him off.

He just needed to think.

It was, frankly, ridiculous that his magic returned and his soulmark completed itself at nearly the same time. The man Yuuri pined over for years was his _soulmate_ ; the reason why his magic suppressed itself was because of his _soulmate_.

The reason that Viktor rejected him was because of his  _soulmate,_ who was  _Yuuri the whole time._

Ridiculous.

It would’ve been so much easier on Yuuri’s glass heart if there was no such thing as soulmates and soulmarks and magic. The complications would've been much less.

And still feeling extraordinarily confused, he automatically turned away from every flash of blue eyes and silver hair. From the little he saw (and how well he knew the other person) Yuuri could tell that Viktor wanted to sit by him, but had to stay by his mother to show his authority as the heir of the host kingdom. His heart broke a little when he glimpsed Viktor’s face crumbling, but Yuuri needed time to think. They were both definitely a little more than tipsy last night and everything was moving uncomfortably fast. He wanted this—he really did!—but his mind wouldn’t stop _screaming_ at him.

Yuuri startled when Yuri Plisetsky plopped down with a plate of _piroshki_  in the seat opposite him. “Y-Yurio?” he stammered. Yuuri hadn’t seen or talked to the younger prince in person since the day he arrived, so it was a little jarring to be face-to-face after so long.

“Have you eaten yet?” Yuri suddenly asked, fixing him with an intense stare.

“Um, no—” Then the plate of food was roughly pushed toward him, and Yuuri could only blink in surprise. “Th-Thanks _,_ ” he blurted.

“They’re not really for breakfast, but I was bored and made them this morning,” Yuri mumbled. “I had a few left over so I thought you’d want them. It’s katsudon, by the way.”

Yuuri was touched by the small gesture—it seemed as if the kind person he was hadn’t changed even as he grew older. He hoped he never would.

“Thank you,” he said again, more sincerely.

“Don’t mention it,” Yuri said gruffly before adding, “But in return go talk to Vitya or something. I think he’s gonna self-combust if you keep ignoring him.”

“I—I will,” Yuuri promised, taking a bite of the _piroshki_. A content sigh escaped his mouth as the taste of pork cutlets, egg, and white rice hit his tongue, and he said, “This is amazing—it’s _vkusno!_ ”

Yuri smiled, looking significantly younger when he did. “Good. I used the katsudon recipe you sent me for my birthday this year. They taste a lot better now, and I didn’t even need Dedushka’s help this time.”

“That’s great! You have to teach me how to make these,” Yuuri enthused, swallowing. “We can cook together later.”

(He wondered if Yuri would mind if Minami joined them.)

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed, suddenly looking distracted by something. He stood up. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get ready, so see ya, Katsudon.”

“O-Oh, okay. Bye, Yurio.” Yuuri was slightly disappointed to see him leave so abruptly, and finished eating his food as he watched him leave the dining hall. And when he looked back at his plate, Yuuri choked when he saw who had taken Yuri’s vacant seat.

“ _Viktor!_ ”

“Sit across from me at today’s meeting, okay?” Viktor pleaded, reaching over and taking Yuuri’s hands. His expression was full was barely-concealed hurt, and Yuuri’s heart ached. It was his fault for that Viktor was making that sort of face.

“Of course,” he whispered. It was hard to deny Viktor anything he asked for.

“Thank you,” Viktor said, smiling softly and kissing Yuuri’s knuckles. “I’ll see you later, _lyubov._ ”

He left then, and Yuuri realized that he was the only one left in the dining hall now. With a groan, he laid his forehead against the cool glass of the table.

Yuuri was such a _mess._ Hopefully, they’d be able to finally sort everything—and he meant _everything_ —out after the meeting. Yuuri couldn’t take this awkward dancing around any longer.

They needed to talk. With _out_ the drunken influence of alcohol and late nights.

Yuuri wouldn’t keep secrets any longer.

 

* * *

 

The conference began about an hour later, at ten o’clock sharp.

As promised, Yuuri sat across from Viktor, who kept looking at him worriedly. He sent him a warm smile whenever their eyes met, and the tension in the other’s shoulders would lessen each time. They were getting somewhere, at least, but Yuuri could see that Viktor still wasn’t feeling very confident around him. And honestly, neither was he. One night wasn’t enough to erase a thousand.

Nadia sat at the head of the table (and to Yuuri’s right, actually) and called it to order, keeping note of all the attendees. There were representatives from a great number of kingdoms and nations here, Yuuri noticed, sneaking glances from his spot at the long table. And he was pleasantly surprised to find that he recognized so many. It would make talking in front of them so much easier.

The tsarina then stood up and began discussing new imports into Russia, and Yuuri tore his eyes away from her son and his lovely smile to look at his papers and take careful notes on what she was saying. His family would definitely appreciate the news on the other kingdoms when he got back. This note-taking continued with every person that spoke, and when it was Yuuri’s turn he relaxed, speaking easily.

“Japan, your report please.”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, immediately rising from his place. He shuffled his notes, then cleared his throat as he met the tsarina’s eyes. “Hasetsu currently has a population of . . .” As he spoke, Yuuri did his best to meet each representative’s eyes. It would show his authority despite Hasetsu’s current ruler not being there, and strength meant everything to these kinds of people.

“U-Unfortunately, we have had to increase taxes this past year on imported goods,” he went on, internally wincing at the stutter in his voice when Viktor sent him a sudden, sunny smile, “but our economic health is still quite strong—other kingdoms and nations can continue to depend on us for dyes and other products.”

As he finished, Yuuri sat back down and surreptitiously rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants, relieved that he had been able to get through his report without passing out from nerves. The only reason that these conferences lasted so long was because each meeting lasted for only about two hours (because royals were _notoriously_ bad at paying attention to _anything_ for an extended period of time), and not every kingdom was able to give their country’s status in just one session. There were also alliances and trade and marriages to be discussed later, which frankly gave Yuuri a headache just to think about.

Italy’s report was after him, and with a wry sort of grin, Yuuri picked up his pencil again and scribbled down the kingdom’s local produce. Only twenty minutes left before they were finished.

And then . . . _then_ he and Viktor would talk.

He hoped it would go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. Ayeee Yuuri's actually secretly Azula (but a lot kinder and just as powerful)
> 
> 2\. I figured that if Minami is around the palace enough in Hasetsu, Yuuri would figuratively adopt him haha 
> 
> 3\. _"Made up or made out"_ has been a line I've been _dying_ to use for a really long time—I liked the way it sounded xD
> 
> 4\. I needed some Yu(u)ri interactions. I'm sorry if it seems super random lol
> 
> 5\. What even is the conference what do they talk about what is politics what is economy _wHO KNOWS_
> 
>  
> 
> And a deleted scene I had between Phichit and Yuuri because I needed my katsudon fatale to think things over for himself:
> 
> “I need your advice,” Yuuri blurted when they sat down on the bed, then winced as the faint smell of charcoal reached his nose. “About Viktor. And feelings.”
> 
> “Oh, is that why your bed smells like someone torched it?” Phichit asked lightly.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!! I'm actually beginning to think that we might be seeing monthly chapters (which I'm super sorry about but I get distracted from writing easily, so you can just blame my laziness for slow updates ^^;), but I'm so glad you're all patient with me. I adore you all.
> 
> See you next time~ ヾ(＾∇＾)


	5. Misguided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _yIKES_ I realized that I kinda messed up the timelines and ages? But worry not—there's no real effect on the story, except that Yuuri's twenty-four now, and it's been four years (instead of three) since he and Viktor's Miscommunication Incident™
> 
>  **ALSO:** You may have noticed that I changed my username/pen-name/handle/(author name?)/etc.! Honestly it's bc I wanted to feel legit haha and idk, I think I sound more mature now or whatever lol ~~( _ha_ i'm still like literally a baby inside what are you talking about)~~
> 
>  
> 
> AND PLEASE MIND THE TAG ADDITIONS!!
> 
> There is a **TW** for a small scene that includes a panic attack—it starts with **"He stared at Viktor, stunned"** and ends with **"Viktor"** so _please_ skip over that part if you don't wish to read that!! I want you all to love this story, and I'd hate for any of you to feel unsafe or scared by anything.

Yuuri couldn’t do this. Nope. Not anymore.

And Viktor’s gloved hand, wrapped around his own, made his nerves skyrocket when it normally calmed them. Yuuri was hyperaware of the other’s presence—their shoulders were brushing with every other step, their feet were in line with each other—and _Yuuri’s hand was so sweaty_.

Yuuri wanted to collapse in the middle of St. Petersburg’s busy streets and lie there pitifully, but Viktor would probably flail his arms around, flustered because he didn’t know what to do, and then they’d both be killed because some jerk with a wagon would cruelly bowl them over and drive away into the crowds, and Makkachin would cry her little doggy cries because she was so heartbroken.

It’d be a hit-and-run. _Multiple_ hit-and-runs.

Was that even a thing?

In addition to Yuuri’s (in)ability to create new words and word-vomit even in his own mind, he was (clearly) having a significant meltdown as Viktor Nikiforov—the tsesarevich and _Yuuri’s possible soulmate_ —pulled him through the city surrounding the palace.

Yuuri needed to distract himself. He counted the number of dogs they passed (three, including Makkachin), the number of cobblestones he stepped on (156.5 because his foot caught in the empty space and Viktor had to catch him), and the number of restaurants, local and foreign (seven), but that still couldn’t take Yuuri’s mind off Viktor’s hand in his.

Hundreds of thousands of people had to live in the area surrounding the palace, and the number that lived in the outskirts and even in the countryside could only increase the population size. Yuuri had thought this when he’d arrived yesterday, but it was so _energetic_ here even with the colder atmosphere. Vendors were shouting descriptions of their wares, running children were weaving through and around anyone in their way, and two (possible) soulmates were wandering the cobbled streets hand-in-hand.

( _Soulmates._ It was still a complicated concept for Yuuri to think about.)

(It was even harder to _talk_ about.)

Yuuri worried his lip between his teeth, then glanced over at Viktor, wondering if he could tell what he was thinking. Did he know? Yuuri returned his gaze forward and stared at Makkachin’s fluffy tail, unconsciously tightening his grip on Viktor’s hand. He had a strange feeling something bad would happen if he ever let go.

And this was something that Yuuri wouldn’t say aloud, but because there was so little color around them, Viktor’s blue eyes seemed to be more vivid against the monochrome of their surroundings. There was a new strength in the way Viktor held himself as they walked; he seemed more substantial than he did when Yuuri first walked into the throne room. Less likely to blow away, even. He wondered what changed in the last twenty-four hours.

To protect against the chill of the winter afternoon, they had both bundled up, though Viktor had thinner layers than Yuuri did. (“I don’t really get cold,” he’d claimed when Yuuri scolded him at the gates, his poodle’s leash wrapped around his wrist, though he’d acquiesced in wearing a long coat over the clothes from this morning’s meetings.)

Before they had left, Yakov informed them that he was going to escort them around the city for safety, but Viktor had declined, insisting that  _it’s_ fine, _Yakov, I’m capable of defending Yuuri and myself_. The viceroy had frowned heavily at Viktor’s argument, but reluctantly let them go with the condition that Viktor conceal his appearance. The royal family was well-beloved by a majority of the country, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any dissenters.

“You’re an adult, but you cannot be _too_ careful, Vitya,” Yakov warned as he roughly pulled Viktor’s hood over his conspicuous silver hair, earning a disgruntled “ _Hey!”_ from the tsesarevich.

As they later made their way into the city, Viktor good-naturedly complained about Yakov’s strictness before regaling Yuuri with more stories from the years past.

He mentioned how Yuri was still learning the violin, and had gotten _so much better than he did when he was twelve, Yuuri, you_ have _to hear him play sometime_ and _I tease him a lot about his instructor’s eldest son, Otabek—_

“Why tease?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor smirked.

“You know how prickly our _kotyonok_ is,” he lamented dramatically. “Seeing him with a friend is just so wonderful it brings tears to my eyes.”

Yuuri burst into laughter, bringing his free hand up to muffle the noise.

Viktor continued to tell more stories about his little brother, his voice filled with pride as he spoke about how excited Yuri was to get that katsudon recipe for his birthday. He spent almost every day working to get it right, Viktor recalled, and smelled like burnt pork for weeks. _It’s not like Mama Hiroko’s,_ Yuri would say, dissatisfied as he lowered the spoon from his mouth, but the hard work eventually paid off and he was now more than proficient in cooking the Japanese dish.

Viktor and his mother adored Yuri so much that Yuuri often forgot that the younger boy wasn’t actually Viktor’s biological sibling. Viktor’s uncle—Nadia’s brother—and his wife had been killed by gold-seeking thieves when Yuri was only a few months old, leaving Nikolai to flee the Plisetsky estate with the the baby. Viktor and Yuri were cousins raised as brothers, and were fiercely protective of each other as a result. Yuuri could see this when Yuri made him talk to Viktor that morning because he could tell how upset he was.

Yuuri’s stomach flipped again, guilt churning. The atmosphere around them was comfortable. It was easy. But he still wasn’t sure how to behave around Viktor, and was walking on eggshells even when he knew he shouldn’t. The words _soulmate soulmate soulmate_ thrummed in Yuuri’s head whenever he looked at Viktor, along with this huge rush of affection that threatened to make him topple over with the intensity. He loved Viktor because he was himself, Yuuri thought quietly, pushing the thoughts of soulmates away from his mind. The soulmark didn’t matter.

 _But who was to say that_ Viktor _even felt the same way?_ a snide little voice suddenly whispered, curling poisonously in his ear. _What if his soulmark is on you, but_ yours _isn’t even on his skin? What would you do if you found out that there was someone better for him out there than_ **_you_** _?_

The words hit too close to home, and Yuuri stopped walking, pitching forward slightly when Viktor kept going. Even Makkachin looked back, a curious _borf!_ rising from her mouth.

_Why can’t I move? I have to keep going! I—_

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked, looking concerned. _Crap._ He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

 _Tell him,_ the same voice hissed. _Tell him how unworthy you are._

“I-It’s nothing,” Yuuri said, ignoring his thoughts. He tried for a smile. “Just tripped again.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him before he relented, “Tell me when you’re ready, then.”

Yuuri sagged in relief, though it scared him a little that Viktor still knew how to read him even after all this time. It seemed that four years apart did nothing to break down ten years of learning each other.

“I think you need some food,” Viktor then announced, his cold fingers still interlinked with Yuuri’s. There was a glove separating the skin of their palms, but the chill still seemed to filter through. “Politics always make me hungry.”

They stepped into a little shop tucked in a street corner, and Yuuri’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly as the warmth washed over him. The smells of bread and sugar and butter instantly filled Yuuri’s nose, and oh, he realized, it was a _bakery._ It was a cute (though wholly unfamiliar) place, and the ambiance was homey. Sturdy-looking wooden chairs and tables were set up in neat blocks, and Yuuri could see steps in the far corner that led to a smaller second story. The way it was set up made it almost seem like an indoor balcony; there were even more chairs and tables up there, presumably for more patrons that wished for more privacy.

The man at the counter, a tall man with floppy brown hair, noticed him and Viktor standing there, greeting them kindly in a language that Yuuri vaguely recognized before saying hello to the poodle at their feet. French, maybe? But then Viktor easily answered the man back in the same language and solidified Yuuri’s guess as he remembered that it was one of the few that Viktor spoke.

“Do you want to save a table while I order us something?” Viktor asked, turning back to Yuuri.

His mind blanked for a moment at being addressed so suddenly. Then he nodded when the words processed, and he took Makkachin’s leash from Viktor. “Y-Yeah. Sure.”

After a split second of hesitation, Yuuri steeled his nerves and strode over to the stairs leading to the second floor while Viktor went to go stand in line. He peeked over his shoulder at him as he went upstairs, noticing that the way the other was dressed was considerably more casual than when in the palace, but it was still obvious that Viktor had quite a bit of money to his name. Though he didn’t look like the heir to Russia’s throne, what made Viktor seem different from a common noble was the way he held himself, tall and confident. He had more pride than most people in every bone of his body, and Yuuri knew that _he_ knew that.

Yuuri’s gaze flitted away from Viktor and to outside the window as he took a seat, his anxiety unexpectedly congealing in the pit of his stomach. He rubbed Makkachin’s soft fur between his fingers, the repetitive motion already comforting him. He’d promised himself to never keep secrets from Viktor, but soulmarks never lied. The mark on his skin couldn’t belong to anyone else but Viktor. And if the stories were even a little accurate, _Viktor_ should have Yuuri’s mark as well.

But he’d never said anything.

Viktor hadn’t mentioned _anything_ about soulmates or anything related since they first went out this afternoon, and Yuuri was terrified that his soulmark wasn’t even _on_ Viktor.

Should—should he ask?

Yuuri had _promised_ himself no more secrets. How weak was he to let his own fear keep him from taking a risk?

When Viktor returned with their food with a cheerful comment about the seat choice though, Yuuri simultaneously pushed a smile onto his face and his feelings deep into his mind. Or at least he _tried_ to. Yuuri could tell that his worries were spilling over, especially into their conversation, and Viktor’s expression was becoming more and more unsure as time passed.

There was a figurative rift rapidly growing between them, and Yuuri didn’t know how to cross it. Each word that left his lips made the distance larger, the invisible glass becoming thicker, and Yuuri fiddled with his fingers, feeling nervous now that they were sitting alone together without any sort of buffer between them.

(Tipsy Yuuri would’ve asked. Tipsy Yuuri was more confident than Sober Yuuri. Tipsy Yuuri was the one who had seduced Viktor Nikiforov last night, leaving Sober Yuuri to deal with the aftermath and he couldn’t _stand_ it. If only he had the self-assurance to simply _speak—!)_

In the end, Yuuri said nothing, and they left the bakery after maybe thirty more awkward minutes, Yuuri’s anxiety making him finish his food much faster than usual, and Viktor claiming he wasn’t hungry despite eating only half of his sandwich, with the other half disappearing down Makkachin’s throat.

He still had the urge to ask Viktor about his soulmark—drop an offhanded comment that _maybe his was on Yuuri haha wow isn’t that weird, is mine on yours?—_ but the combination of his inability to do so and the fact that Viktor still remained quiet as they walked out made his cheeks go hot with shame as they walked out.

Yuuri’s skin felt much too tight around him. What was he doing wrong? Did Viktor hate him?

“Let’s go back now,” Viktor then said softly, not quite meeting Yuuri’s eyes. “We have to rest up for tomorrow.”

Yuuri swallowed. “Of course. And, um . . .”

It was now or never.

“What would you do if you ever met your soulmate?” Yuuri blurted, unable to keep the words in any longer during the agonizing silence.

Viktor’s steps faltered, slowing to a stop in the middle of the street. The lunch hour for most people was over, so the the paths were significantly less crowded. It was only the two of them, a poodle, a few others, and the biting wind.

Yuuri bit his lip at Viktor’s almost disapproving expression. Hurt, even. “Did you think I would just leave you after telling you all that?” he asked, sounding defensive. “Do you have that little trust in me, Yuuri?”

“N-No!” he cried, wincing at how loud his voice had gotten. “It’s just—I was wondering if it was a mistake.” At Viktor’s stunned look, Yuuri quickly added, “No, not _us._ I don’t see us as a mistake at all! Just . . . just _please_ let me explain.”

“ _Please do._ ” He sounded frustrated.

“I— _I have a soulmate, too!_ ” Yuuri blurted, ducking his head. _Dammit,_ that wasn’t what he meant to say. He opened his mouth to add to his words, but Viktor’s voice made his own die down.

“Oh. So that’s why you’ve been acting strange today.”

Why it sound so hollow?

“Yes,” Yuuri said, feeling thrown off by the sudden series of closed doors that had seemed to erupt in front of him. He tried a little bit of teasing, to hint at what he was trying to get at. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I know now because I found them. _Him_.” _You._

“Oh, that’s good,” Viktor said, the brightness in his eyes now uncomfortably dim. “You’ll be very happy with him.”

“I will,” Yuuri replied, his smile uncertain as he tried to reach for Viktor’s hand. Did he understand what he was trying to tell him? But his skin stung as Viktor moved away.

“We should get back,” he said abruptly, giving him the smile that he reserved for stuck-up nobles and Yuri when his behavior was uncalled for. But it had never been for Yuuri. Viktor had _never_ looked as empty as he did when looking at him now and it _hurt._

He stared at Viktor, stunned. He . . . he didn’t understand. And when Viktor began walking away with Makkachin, every bit an icy prince, Yuuri was rooted to where he was. He didn’t think he could’ve moved even if he wanted to because the panic that had begun to build in the bakery was rushing out full force, triggered by Yuuri’s distress.

“Vi—” he choked out, Viktor’s silhouette starting to swim in front of him as he clutched at his chest. Something rough and hard was digging into his knees and his hands were hurting, somehow stained red. How did he get onto the ground? “ _Viktor—”_

Air struggled to swirl into his drowning lungs because _no,_ Viktor couldn’t leave him again, Yuuri needed to explain before his world walked away for the last time _please please please come back I_ need _you._

“— _URI! YUURI, BREATHE!”_

Oh, was that Viktor? Yuuri thought he’d left, but he obediently tried listening to the voice anyway. Tears were still steadily rolling down his face, choking him as he tried to gulp down air. Cold arms then wrapped around his trembling body, and even though they were cold the comfort they gave seeped into his shoulders. Yuuri’s breaths slowly evened out. His vision cleared. Silver hair tickled his nose, no longer hidden under a brown hood. A large, rough doggy tongue licked the tears from his cheek.

Viktor.

“ _Biktoru?”_ Yuuri asked, wincing at how the other’s name had come out of his mouth. “Viktor?” he tried again, lifting his arms and circling them around Viktor’s waist. His hands had an iron grip on Viktor’s coat.

“Shit, I sent you into a _panic attack,_ ” Viktor gasped, pulling Yuuri closer. How strange they must’ve looked—two men and a dog crouched in the middle of the street, embracing like they were about to die. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.”

“No, I was overthinking,” Yuuri mumbled, his body feeling heavy and tired. “I wanted to tell you something important, but I wasn’t sure how to say it.”

“I know. Your soulmate,” Viktor said, the coldness now gone from his voice, replaced with a tiredness that seemed to weigh down every word. “I’ll admit I was upset—jealous, actually—and took that out on you. You’re my best friend, Yuuri, and you deserve someone much better than I am.” He held Yuuri closer. “I’ll help get them to fall in love with you. I’ll support you through it all.”

Something sounded off about that, and Yuuri asked, confused, “Wait, what? No, Viktor, what I was trying to say was that _you’re_ my soulmate. I think I have _your_ mark on me. A black feather.”

Viktor pulled back then, his blue eyes shocked but clear. “ _What?_ ” he gasped, unintentionally repeating Yuuri’s earlier sentiment. “Yes, that’s my mark, but—but there’s no new mark on me! How . . . ?”

A part of Yuuri was elated to confirm that the mark was, indeed, Viktor’s, but it was still a blow to find out that Yuuri’s own soulmark didn’t appear on Viktor’s skin.

“But now no one will contest our engagement,” Viktor realized, his expression brightening with the epiphany. “Yuuri, we could get _married_ and no one can say anything!”

“ _M-Married_ ?” Yuuri squeaked, feeling his face burn. Not literally, though, because that would’ve been even _more_ of a disaster.

“With time I know that I’ll eventually get your mark, so it’ll be okay!” Viktor said confidently, and Yuuri nodded hesitantly in agreement. Viktor then pulled Yuuri up and wrapped an arm around his waist before he could topple over from dizziness. This was all so surreal . . .

As they began their slow trek back, Viktor’s smile slipped as he let out a heavy groan. “I’m an idiot,” he hissed, tightening his hold on Yuuri. His brows were scrunched together, and his expression clearly upset. “This could’ve all been avoided if only I’d listened to you before, but Yuuri . . . you know you _can_ say no to marrying me. I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted you to be happy more than anything. I’m willing to let you see someone else—”

“No. I want to be with _you_ ,” Yuuri said, the words pouring out as easily as champagne did down his throat. “It—it feels right. With you,” he confessed, his voice soft. “We can work this out, I know we can.”

Viktor's face was so caught off guard, looking so soft and hopeful and _happy_ after hearing those words. “. . . I suppose we can,” he hummed after a beat, his smile warmer than the sun.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they arrived back at the palace, Viktor dropped Yuuri off back in his room before he left with Makkachin for his own chambers. Yuuri would’ve protested, but he’d fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, vaguely registering that the burned sheets had been switched out for undamaged ones.

He slept longer than he thought he would, waking the next morning when the sun was streaming through the crack between the curtains. He blinked slowly, his body feeling heavy and his vision blurry. Someone must’ve taken his glasses off.

A sudden shift drew Yuuri’s attention to the side, and he relaxed, unsurprised to see that Phichit was sitting by his bed.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Phichit said, marking his place in the book in his hands. “Sleep well?”

“I guess so,” he croaked, still feeling strangely heavy.

“Viktor told me what happened last night at dinner, but I could tell he was keeping something from me. He sounded a little nervous when he asked me to check on you this morning,” Phichit commented, his dark eyes knowing. Yuuri didn’t answer, and Phichit took that as an opportunity to continue. “Do you feel comfortable telling me what happened?”

He shook his head, his tongue feeling dry. “I don’t think I can right now,” he said softly. “Can I tell you later? When I’m feeling more up to it?”

“Of course. Now, let’s get you ready for breakfast,” he said briskly. “Unless . . . you want to eat here and not go down.”

“Yeah, I’d rather stay here,” Yuuri agreed, feeling as if he was sinking into the mattress because of how heavy he was. “I’m _exhausted_.”

Phichit bobbed his head in understanding. He, much like Viktor, was mostly adept in Yuuri-speak. “Let me tell you what you missed during lunch yesterday, then. It was wild . . .”

Phichit’s voice was soothing, his accent making the English words sound playful. He animatedly recounted what had happened while Yuuri and Viktor wandered St. Petersburg together, and Yuuri’s stomach hurt from how hard he was laughing.

This was nice. Uncomplicated. But the comfort of Phichit's company was—was _different_ from what Yuuri felt when with Viktor. _So_ much different, though Yuuri couldn't put it into words because all the terms from the three languages he knew _failed_ to describe the intricacies of the soul, and it frustrated him.

He found it hard to believe that it had only been a little more than a day since Viktor had kissed him. So much had happened in the span of twenty-four hours, putting so much pressure on Yuuri's already-fragile glass heart. He wasn't sure what he would do if it ever broke.

Yuuri kept a small smile on his face as he listened to Phichit talk, though inwardly he hoped that he'd still be able to have something as easy as this with Viktor someday, once they were past all the demons they kept inside themselves. 

He hoped he was strong enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. THESE BOYS NEED TO _TALK_ TO EACH OTHER I'M BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL BC THEY JUST KEEP WRITING THEMSELVES AND _NOT TALKING._ Viktor and Yuuri wyd to me
> 
> 2\. Yuuri is so incredibly nervous here that I'm actually dying bc it doesn't allow me to resolve issues cleanly haha. I want to keep him human, and also I want him to have more faith in Viktor, but the _anxiety._ Honestly, I hate confrontation (especially within my friend group) so I would've been worse at communicating than Yuuri is. Also I've tried to avoid explicitly saying that Yuuri _has_ anxiety bc I'm want to keep a vague historical era where mental illnesses were never really addressed, so I've been really shifty about the subject? Tell me if it sounds weird or anything
> 
> 3\. I also feel like nothing much happened in this chapter in regards to plot development? It'll happen soon—I'm slowly but surely plodding along with the writing. And it also depends on how _Yuuri and Viktor_ *glares* decide to act in the story, but either next chapter or the chapter after that is when The Shit™ goes down ;)
> 
> 4\. Maaaaaakkaaaaaachiiiiiiiiin
> 
>  
> 
> A question: Can anyone recommend the best time to update fics? I've been posting willy-nilly, ~~but heeeeeelp I want validation for my writing ahaha~~
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and see you next time!! :)


	6. Interlude: The Plans of Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of time this past weekend and ended up writing the next three chapters instead of studying for my calc final haha. So here's a random interlude! Three words: it is short. And because it's so short, the next chapter (when I'm satisfied with it) should be up in a couple days. :)

When he heard the young prince of Hasetsu was leaving the country, he impulsively decided to follow. He packed up his books, his spare clothes, his son—and shipped them all off (plus himself) to Russia. The man was a little worried (though he'd never admit it) that his plan would fall to pieces if the soldiers accompanying the prince were too competent, but he was confident in his power. It killed quickly and easily, so there wasn't much to worry about. 

And soon, it became the best decision he'd ever made in his life, even over the decision to keep his son instead of disposing of him. Because not even a day after the prince arrived to the Russian palace, he felt that tell-tale shift in the air.

He licked his lips.

The link of a first soulbond. The _prince’s_ first soulbond, to be more precise.

The castle he’d found after some bit of searching was dark and run-down, but it would serve his purpose well. It was far from St. Petersburg, deep in the forest, and overlooked a beautiful lake, where the moon often reflected on the still surface. He smiled cruelly, plans already forming in his mind. 

There was a prince to steal, maybe more, and magic to be taken.

Yes, it would work perfectly. He'd make his move quite soon.

Everything was falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _did_ say I promised to let you know when The Shit™ happened, didn't I? ;)


	7. A Whisper of Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! :)
> 
> ~~also the hits on this story are incredible and thank you so much to everyone who's giving my writing and me a try :') i love you all!~~

It was day two of the conference.

After eating with Phichit, Yuuri went to the baths again to wash off all the grime from yesterday. It was late enough that everyone was already at breakfast, so Yuuri allowed himself a few moments to slow down. And raising his hand, he gently traced the two feathers on his chest with a soapy finger, mixed feelings still bubbling in his mind. Not for the first time, Yuuri wished that there were more accounts of soulmates and their marks because it would’ve been reassuring to know if there had been people like him and Viktor. The world had a serious lacking of a history of magical events, and because of that Yuuri was struggling to find any answers.

Feeling too irritated to let his body dry normally, Yuuri summoned up a bit of his magic to evaporate the wetness from his hair and skin, and it was only when he finished that Yuuri remembered that he hated the way he felt after drying himself that way. His skin felt brittle, his hair looked like a strong wind had blown through it, and it didn’t feel good at all.

Nevertheless, Yuuri had a kingdom to represent and and hurried back to his room to make himself at least a little more presentable for the other nations. It took a little longer than he hoped it would, but with a few seconds to spare, Yuuri managed to slide into his seat across from Viktor with fresh sheets of paper, ready for the day’s notes. He gave him a small, reassuring smile like he’d done the day before, and offered his hand across the table. Viktor took it immediately, seeking the contact, and his cold fingers curled around his own.

“Let’s talk after,” Yuuri said, not giving Viktor the option to decline, even if he knew he never would. They couldn't skirt around the issue anymore. What they were doing wasn’t healthy (and Yuuri was the poster boy for unhealthy decisions), and they desperately needed to communicate. As he expected, Viktor nodded, though his smile was still a little tired.

“Meet me in the library after lunch.”

Yuuri found it hard to pay attention to the rest of the meeting, his mind wandering as the other royals droned on. He was angry at himself when almost two people had finished speaking, and the only thing on his paper was a _9_ and a few random squiggles _._ He forced himself to listen for the next hour and a half, counting down the minutes until they were free to leave.

And even lunch took a while. Yuuri’s foot tapped anxiously as he ate, sneaking glances at Viktor from where he ate with his family, and not only Phichit, but even Guang-hong and Leo picked up on his nerves.

When asked what was wrong, Yuuri gave his friends a strained smile and told them he had some excess energy from sitting in the meeting room for so long. “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured them, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he did so. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll see you guys later,” Yuuri said, shooting up from his chair when he saw Viktor leaving the dining hall. “I’m feeling tired, so I think I’ll take a nap.”

It was probably the sorriest excuse Yuuri had ever told (which was pretty impressive because Yuuri’s lies were pitiful as heck), but Phichit called out jokingly, “Don’t get lost!” and Yuuri smiled at him gratefully. He hurried out the door after Viktor, hoping no one saw how closely they had left after each other.

“People are gonna talk,” a voice said as Yuuri rounded a corner, the tone teasing.

He yelped at that and threw himself backward, feeling the wall slam into his back. “ _V_ _iktor!_ ” he breathed, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. “Don’t _do_ that!”

But Viktor merely smiled and reached out for Yuuri’s hand, the solidness of his grip reassuring. “Come with me.”

The library door later closed solidly behind them, and Yuuri stood awkwardly in the middle of the enormous room while Viktor flitted around to pull open the drapes and let the light in. The palace’s library was _gorgeous—_ nothing like what Yuuri had at home. Rich, dark wood cases held what had to be thousands of books, and the chairs looked as comfortable as they ever did. And since not many people wandered in here, save for the royal family, it would be a good place to have a somewhat sensitive talk.

Yuuri wasn’t sure who began speaking first, but the conversation rolled easily as soon as they sat down on a single sofa and faced each other. They simply _talked._ Both cried more than a few times, both sad and happy tears, and a great deal of hugs were given and received. Yuuri felt lighter. Limitless.

Viktor later showed him his soulmark, a small black feather that was identical to the one on Yuuri, with a sad little smile on his face at the bare skin next to it. Not wanting Viktor to feel ashamed, Yuuri hastily unbuttoned his shirt as well, only showing the patch of skin where his own marks were. His face warmed at the scrutiny, and at the beaming smile that grew on the other’s face. Yuuri never took any pride in his body, but under Viktor’s eyes—he felt _beautiful._

“It’s _you!_ ” Viktor cried suddenly, leaping forward again and encasing Yuuri in his arms. “I—I— _Lyubov moya, ya lyublyu tebya!_ ” he screamed instead, the ability to communicate in English clearly escaping him.

The Russian words easily translated in Yuuri’s mind, having heard Viktor’s family say it enough times to each other. Though Yuuri couldn’t bring it within himself to say the same aloud, he buried his nose into the crook of Viktor’s neck instead, hoping he’d still be able to hear and feel his love. Maybe Viktor didn’t have his mark, but that didn’t matter. Everything important was out in the open, their souls laid bare.

But with a small, pained noise, Viktor suddenly pulled away, wincing as he held Yuuri’s wrists gingerly. “Your hands suddenly became hot,” he explained with a smile. “They’ve always been warm, but _that_ was definitely different.”

Yuuri yanked his arms out of Viktor’s grip. “I’m _so_ sorry,” he said, horrified at his lack of control. “I—I have a fire affinity, but I’m usually much better at keeping my magic contained. Are you hurt?” He decided against mentioning _why_ his control had lapsed, embarrassed that just a simple hug had done _that,_ and that he’d been more or less powerless for four years. Knowing Viktor, he’d probably blame himself endlessly, and Yuuri didn’t want that.

Viktor shook his head, that smile still on his face as he took Yuuri’s hands again. “No, I’m perfectly fine. It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“I think it’s funny, though,” Viktor added, a playful look in his eyes.

“Why?”

“This.”

Viktor blew in Yuuri’s face and Yuuri was about to scold him about how _gross that was, Viktor,_ but his words faded when faint flecks of snow hit his skin.

“Oh,” Yuuri said for the second time, his voice faint. “That’s what you meant.”

“Right?” Viktor said eagerly, leaning close enough that their foreheads were almost touching. Their breaths mingled, and instead of feeling disgusted, Yuuri wanted to crawl inside Viktor’s embrace and stay there forever. They stared at each other, brown eyes blinking into blue, simply captivated by the their company's presence.

“Hey Yuuri, are we rushing this?” Viktor whispered after a few moments of silence.

Yuuri didn’t answer for a while, and leaned into Viktor’s side instead. “Everything _is_ moving a little too fast,” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. “I want to get to know you again before—before we do _that._ ”

“What, get married?”

Viktor’s voice was teasing, but Yuuri remained serious. “You know how I am,” he said quietly. “I like to be sure of everything before making decisions. Having a relationship with someone—baring your heart like that to them—makes me feel vulnerable. I knew you when I first confessed four years ago, but I want to know you _again_ if . . . if that’s okay with you.”

“We’ll move at our pace then,” Viktor murmured. “Who do you want me to be in that time we meet each other again? A friend? Lover?”

“No,” Yuuri said suddenly, surprising himself as he met the other’s eyes. “I want you to be yourself. That way, I get to learn every part of you.”

Viktor’s eyes had widened at Yuuri’s sudden burst of confidence before softening. “I can do that,” Viktor said, his smile gentle.

Yuuri felt his heart swell with happiness. _You always_ did _meet me where I was._

“When are you leaving?” Viktor asked him.

“Right after the gala,” Yuuri said, regretting his past self’s impulsive decision to leave as quickly as he could from Russia. “My family doesn’t want me away for too long.”

“You’re sure you can’t stay longer?” Viktor pleaded, and Yuuri shook his head. He’d already promised his parents and Mari that he’d be home within a certain period of time and arriving after that would cause them unnecessary worry.

“Okay,” Viktor said, smiling softly. “Then I guess I’ll have to spend every waking moment with you.”

Viktor actually took his promise quite seriously, Yuuri came to realize as the rest of the week passed. Their seats in the meeting room were still the same, and Viktor took him to explore the large city of St. Petersburg every afternoon, determined to make up for before.

Christophe Giacometti, Switzerland’s king, accompanied them once on a day they decided to go to the bakery again, and Yuuri squeaked with surprise when Chris suddenly grabbed the man working the counter to pull him into a deep kiss. The man had seemed so _serious_ before, but his entire face was red as he weakly protested that Chris was holding up the line. Chris answered with another kiss, and the patrons merely cheered in support.

“Viktor, what _was_ that?” Yuuri later demanded, his voice lowered to a whisper as they found a table. He stared hard at Chris, who was still heavily flirting with the owner of the bakery, then back at Viktor.

“This place only opened a few years ago,” Viktor explained, his eyes warm as the bakery itself as he looked at Yuuri. “I took Chris here when he visited once, and I guess he fell in love at first sight.”

Yuuri looked back at the two men, wondering. “It’s hard to imagine him being so serious about someone.”

“That’s what I thought,” Viktor agreed. “But I guess there was something special about Masumi that drew Chris to him.” Then his expression became somewhat mischievous. “And as you can probably tell, Chris is a little _sweet_ on—”

“Did you just give me a _pun,_ Viktor Nikiforov?” Yuuri asked, his serious tone betrayed by the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips.

“Yes,” he said proudly.

Chris and Masumi’s interaction from yesterday was still on Yuuri’s mind as the meeting began the next day, and clearly, it was on Viktor’s too. Yuuri could tell that he was itching to say something, but Yuuri imperceptibly shook his head, unwilling to let anyone into their still-growing relationship. It was _theirs,_ and he felt uncomfortable having—having _whatever_ they had into the open like that.

They were still relearning each other, figuring out their dance, and Yuuri’s fondness of Viktor only increased with every part of it. Viktor was willing to wait for him, looking back if he was ever too far ahead and offering his hand to pull Yuuri to his side.

Yuuri still doubted sometimes, but the other’s kisses on his lips, cheek, forehead, hair—they temporarily quelled any anxiety wanting to burst from his mind. Viktor made him feel safe.

The rest of the week with him was wonderful, feeling almost like a dream. And it made Yuuri so, _so_ happy to know that it wasn’t. The days passed by much too quickly, and before he knew it, Yuuri was standing in front of the mirror with only the slightest hint of makeup (courtesy of Phichit), and pulling on a kimono on the last night.

Well, a yukata, technically, even _if_ they were meant for summer wear, not the biting cold of a Russian winter, or even Japanese winters. But it made Yuuri feel better about himself to call it a kimono because he wasn’t too keen on wearing such formal clothing, preferring more untraditional dress. He could feel his mother scolding from across the ocean for even _thinking_ of wearing a suit when he was supposed to represent his kingdom during an event like this, so it was better a fancy-looking yukata rather than the haori and hakama set sitting folded in his trunk.

It was admittedly a nice ensemble on him, though. The yukata was a deep blue, fitting perfectly around his frame, and as Yuuri stared at himself in the mirror, he debated the pros and cons of pushing his hair back. Then he sighed as he went to retrieve the tub of gel from his trunk, tripping slightly over the hem as he did so.

A gentle knock made Yuuri look up from his trunk, his fingers already closing around the little jar.

“Hello!” he called, picking himself up off the ground.

“Hi!” a muffled voice called back, and Yuuri smiled as the door opened to reveal Viktor. He was dressed in a white dress shirt tucked into crisp black slacks, and there was a magenta-colored overcoat with golden tassels draped over his arm. Once their eyes met, Viktor flushed a light pink, something Yuuri didn’t fail to notice.

“Oh, you used the dye!” Yuuri said, giving Viktor an approving once-over as he did so. The shirt and pants clung to his torso and legs, respectively, in all the right ways and _ooh,_ he really needed to stop looking at them. He settled for looking at Viktor’s face instead, and was nearly blinded by the brilliance of his smile.

“Mama was looking for an excuse to use your family's gift,” Viktor said, oblivious to Yuuri’s internal struggle. “It’s a really nice color, by the way.”

Instead of replying, Yuuri smiled instead and grabbed Viktor’s free hand, smoothing back his fingers so that they lay flat. He then placed the glass tub of gel into his open palm, and there was a small _clink_ as it hit the gold ring around Viktor’s finger.

“Do my hair for me?” Yuuri asked, a little shyly.

“Gladly.”

Yuuri hummed happily as Viktor’s long fingers carded through his hair, leaving behind trails of cool wetness as he used his magic to make the strands damp again. It was still so surreal that _Viktor Nikiforov_ wanted to be with him. _Cared_ for him. Things— _good_ things—never really happened to Yuuri, and he selfishly hoped he’d be able to have as much of Viktor’s time as he could.

“Glasses?” Viktor asked after wiping off his hands with a nearby towel, holding out the blue frames to Yuuri.

He shook his head. Tonight was a special occasion.

Viktor grinned, setting down Yuuri’s glasses on the table. Yuuri then helped him pull the jacket over his shoulders, and Viktor pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Let’s have fun.”

“As long as I’m with you,” Yuuri said honestly, taking the other’s chilly hand in his own.

 

* * *

 

The gala was so different from the one only a week ago.

One, Yuuri stayed close to Viktor rather than actively avoiding him. Two, Yuuri actually attempted some socialization with the other nobles, albeit awkwardly, instead of hiding behind Phichit.

(Phichit was actually sending him cheery finger guns whenever they made eye contact, something that made Yuuri flush happily.)

(And Yuuri could see Yuri talking animatedly with a taller, dark-haired boy as they sat at a table on the outer section of the ballroom, something that made his heart warm. That must've been Otabek. Someone who could make Yuri smile like that was definitely good for him.)

Oh, and three, Yuuri’s dance with Viktor was done sober.

And it was so much _better._

Yuuri could better appreciate the callouses on Viktor’s hands, a result from years of archery training, and the safety and strength of his arms as they held Yuuri close. He could clearly see the hue of Viktor’s blue eyes, still vivid even without the help of his glasses. He could feel the easy tandem of their steps, his feet instinctively moving as the other did. Their leading was fluid, with Yuuri actually dipping Viktor at some point. And seeing the pleasantly surprised expression on his face as he did so made Yuuri laugh.

“You’re so beautiful,” Viktor said as Yuuri held that position for a few beats longer, his eyes full of nothing short of adoration.

Yuuri’s breath hitched at the honest admission, wondering if it was okay to feel this happy. Seeing Viktor’s face, his smile—Yuuri never thought he’d be able to be with the one he cared so deeply about four years ago. But somehow, fate managed to pull through.

“Th-Thank you,” Yuuri said softly, pulling Viktor upright.

The music continued and Viktor’s hands unwillingly slipped out of his when the two of them were pulled away by different partners.

Yuuri then found himself with Sara Crispino in his arms, while he saw that Viktor was with Phichit. His heart sunk. Not because he was dancing with the Italian princess (or maybe he _should_ be worried because he could already feel Michele’s murderous gaze), but because his two best friends in the same area with each other had enough combined dirt to keep Yuuri from _ever_ showing his face in public again.

“Sorry to take you away, Yuuri!” Sara trilled, an apologetic look in her eyes as they danced. “I could tell that you and Viktor were having a lot of fun.”

“We were,” Yuuri replied, smiling. He fell into the leading role easily, though he had to repeatedly remind himself that Sara wasn’t Viktor and wouldn’t be able to adjust to a liquid dance.

“You dance well,” Sara later complimented, beaming as Yuuri twirled her. The skirt of her violet dress flared as he did so, revealing uncomfortable-looking black heels underneath. His respect for her increased just for dancing in those.

“O-Oh, thank you,” Yuuri said, blushing. “I had a good teacher back home.”

Their conversation continued, and their dancing became more and more daring. They waltzed _one_ -two-three, _one-_ two-three, their steps perfectly in sync. Sara was a great dancing partner and a wonderful person, but she wasn’t Viktor. But before Yuuri could dwell on that too much, Sara grinned mischievously and pushed him away. He stumbled back, eyes wide, before he collided with something solid, and strong hands gripped his arms to steady him.

“Hello,” Viktor’s voice purred into his ear.

Yuuri squeaked, raising his hands to touch the ones holding his. He saw Sara waving cheerfully at him, looking proud, and he could only stare at her in bewilderment.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her smile wide as she tapped her foot impatiently. “Go dance!”

“You heard the princess, Yuuri,” Viktor said with a smile of his own. “Would you like to dance with me?”

“Always,” Yuuri breathed. Then a new song began and Viktor whisked him away.

Yuuri had forgone wearing the traditional geta sandals with his yukata, knowing that he’d just trip all over himself if he did. So he wore his nice flats underneath, even if they didn’t really match, and hoped the hem was long enough to cover them. He danced with countless other people as the gala continued well into the night, including Lady Isabella Yang, JJ’s fiancée, and even Minami, who seemed a little starstruck that he was dancing with his prince.

(“Yuuri-ouji is such a kind person!” Minami gasped, his cheeks flaming as red as the streak in his hair when Yuuri walked over to the side of the room where he and Takeshi were standing and had asked if he would like to dance.

“It’s nothing, Minami-kun,” Yuuri assured him, exchanging an amused look with Takeshi as the young soldier only squealed louder. “I just thought you could have a little more fun in a new country.”

“THANK YOU!”)

Later, though not late enough that the party had ended, Viktor caught Yuuri’s arm and pulled him out of the ballroom, paralleling events from a week ago. They stood, once again, in that dimly-lit hallway, watching the moonlight flicker in each other’s eyes. Yuuri was quiet, waiting for Viktor to speak first.

Then he did, but not before giving Yuuri a quick smile, soft and loving.

“I know we’re trying to go at our pace,” Viktor said quietly, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small box, “but . . . I felt that I needed to at least give you this before you left tonight. We still have to get it sized to fit you, but I hope you like it anyway.”

He opened the box and revealed a thin, gold necklace with a pendant. A very  _familiar_ pendant. 

Because there was a ring, matching the one already around Viktor’s finger. Yuuri pressed his hands to his mouth, moisture gathering in his eyes. “Are you—are you _proposing_ to me?”

“Would you be angry if I was?” Viktor asked sheepishly, the delicate-looking metal already looped carefully around his hands.

“No, of _course_ not! It’s perfect,” Yuuri whispered through his fingers, trying not to cry again. He’d cried so many times this week that he’d rather not again.

Viktor was unclasping the hook. “May I?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded. He shivered when Viktor’s cool hands brushed his neck, then eventually felt the weight of the ring rest against his chest.

Viktor looked conflicted as his eyes flicked between Yuuri’s face and the new necklace before his resolve visibly steeled. “Stay here with me,” he pleaded, holding Yuuri’s hand. “I’m going to miss you too much.”

“I’ll miss you too, but I need to go back home and see my family,” Yuuri said, squeezing Viktor's hand in response. But at seeing his downcast look, Yuuri smiled reassuringly. “I want to tell them in person that I finally found love.”

“Then you’ll come back?”

“As soon as I can.”

Viktor leaned in and kissed him goodbye, then pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Write me when you’re coming back so I can pick you up,” he mumbled, his voice suspiciously thick.

Yuuri buried his head into the crook of Viktor’s neck. “I promise.” 

"I'll be waiting."

And with a heavy heart, Yuuri left to say goodbye to everyone else. He hugged Nadia and Yuri and asked them to say the same thing to Nikolai, hugged Phichit and cried, and shrieked when Mila and Sara snuck up behind him and lifted him over their heads, ballgowns and heels and all.

Yuuri later managed to get down with Chris’s help, then said his farewells again as he slipped out and went back to his own room to get his glasses and check if he had missed anything. He was packed already, and knew that his trunk was already loaded onto the back of the carriage. Yuuri would be wearing the yukata home, but with a few extra layers both underneath and over it to shield him from the cold. Even  _if_ he had fire magic, overusing it in this kind of weather wouldn’t bode well for him at all.

Takeshi’s father was waiting for him outside his room when Yuuri opened his door, startling him. Yuuri hadn’t really seen him since the beginning of the conference—apparently he’d been elsewhere in the palace—and had almost forgotten that Nishigori-san had even come.

“Hello, Yuu-kun,” he greeted, his tone warm. Now Yuuri’s own parents’ age, Nishigori Ryou had faithfully served under the Katsuki family since Yuuri’s grandparents were ruling Hasetsu. He was a loyal soldier and grew to be a very good friend of Hiroko and Toshiya, often serving as their second advisor after Minako. He’d been a constant presence in Yuuri's life.

He relaxed. “Hello, Nishigori-san. Are you escorting me?”

“Indeed I am. Takeshi is already waiting outside with Kenjirou-kun, and we’ll be on our way to the ship shortly.”

Yuuri touched the ring around his neck, missing Viktor already. He would’ve come to see him off, but Yuuri told him that if he came he’d never leave. He regretted that decision immediately though when he fell into step next to Nishigori-san.

At the gates of the palace, Yuuri was quiet as he followed Takeshi into the carriage. It was early morning, and still very dark, so they had to take precautions as they traveled; Nishigori-san was worried there would be bandits, and they needed a last line of defense to protect Yuuri if anything were to happen. And as the carriage began to bump along, Yuuri must’ve not been doing a very good job at hiding his mopey feelings from him because Takeshi took one look at him and asked what was wrong.

No. _Asked what was wrong_ implied that Takeshi was tactful about it, and that wasn’t the case. He had leaned forward, stared at Yuuri’s tired face, and declared, “You look like shit. What happened?”

“We’re leaving,” he said plaintively.

“Oh. Viktor?”

“Viktor.”

“I could see the bedroom eyes you guys were sending each other all week,” Takeshi agreed. “What changed? I know you weren’t exactly happy to see him when we first came.”

 _Everything and nothing,_ Yuuri wanted to say, but there was so much loaded in those three words. Seven days with Viktor was enough to change Yuuri’s world over and over again, but there was still things to be done, things to be said, things to be discovered. And maybe their soulmarks would never match, but it didn’t matter.

Because they were just Yuuri and Viktor, two kindred souls going at their own pace with no need for labels for who they were.

But Yuuri couldn’t tell Takeshi that, so he said instead, “We talked about everything and worked it out. We—we’re getting better.”

Takeshi grinned. “I’m proud of you.”

Yuuri thumbed the fabric of his yukata, embarrassed by his friend’s rare show of sentimentality. It was normally Yuuko or his other family members who were ever like this, but hearing it from Takeshi—hearing that he acknowledged Yuuri’s resolve—made his heart warm.

 

But the peaceful moment shattered in mere moments.

 

Yuuri had opened his mouth to speak again, but the carriage jerked to a stop from its steady pace and he would’ve smashed his face against the other side if Takeshi hadn’t caught him. Yuuri stared at his friend, an unspoken message passing between them instantly.

Something was _very_ wrong.

He lifted aside the curtain to look outside, but Takeshi reached over and grabbed his arm. He shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “Yuuri, _stay here,_ ” he commanded, holding out an arm as he climbed out of the carriage. “And if I tell you to, _run._ ”

Yuuri’s heartbeat accelerated. “Takeshi, what? Why?”

Takeshi looked back at him, his eyes full of fear. “You’re my prince, and my friend above all. I’m not letting you die.” Then he climbed out of the carriage, closing the door behind him.

It was quiet now. Yuuri’s breaths were rough and ragged, and he pressed his hands against his mouth to muffle the noise. Blood pounded against his eardrums, betraying the swiftness of his heart. He could hear pebbles shifting outside, displaced by uneasy feet.

“Who are you?” Yuuri heard Nishigori-san’s voice demand, sounding cold. A split second of silence, and then it happened.

The crackle of electricity, then a deep roar.

“Yuuri, _run!”_ Takeshi yelled from outside the carriage, and his words broke Yuuri out of his stupor.

He gathered up his clothing, shoved open the door, then jumped out. But when Yuuri risked a look behind him, time seemed to slow down. He saw the terror in every soldier staring at him, _begging_ for him to run and save himself, and then he lifted his head and saw the monster—an enormous, winged beast covered in fur, rushing toward them.

Then Yuuri knew what he had to do. He blinked tears from his eyes, calling the courage he was named for. _I’m sorry, Viktor,_ he thought, feeling a blistering heat course through his body.  _Maybe I won't be keeping that promise._

And a scream erupted from the depths of Yuuri's throat, bluebell flames covering his hands, and he raced forward past Takeshi, past Minami, and past Nishigori-san before they could stop him. His eyes narrowed as he rectified his earlier thoughts.

 _No. I_  will _keep my promise_ _!_

Then a starburst of magic exploded from his palms as Yuuri threw more at the monster than he’d ever summoned in his life. A horrifying screech sounded from it as the fire made contact, and the flames swirled and glowed with power, countless colors bursting around them. The heat and force of the magic blew Yuuri backward and into the road almost immediately, knocking the air out of his lungs, and he coughed into his sleeve, the resulting smoke having thickened quickly.

Yuuri could tell that his yukata was ruined now, his sleeves singed and his elbows scraped and bloody but miraculously, his glasses had survived with only a thin film of ash on them. And the fire was gone now, having burned out quickly. Yuuri felt drained. It was a stupid move, but if it worked—then all the better.

His breaths were heavy as Takeshi ran to him. “Yuuri, what were you thinking?” he said, his voice breaking as he helped him sit up.

“I—I wasn’t,” Yuuri said distantly. 

“And your magic’s back?”

“Yeah.”

They looked ahead, staring at the smoke. Then they froze as they glimpsed movement.

“I used everything I had in that,” Yuuri whispered, horrified. And now, because of his recklessness, he’d hit the ground hard enough that he could no longer move. He’d damned them all.

Yuuri should’ve known that nothing ever came easy, _especially_ to him, so of course the universe would try to rip any happiness that he had at the first chance it could. Takeshi immediately rose to his feet and took a protective stance in front of Yuuri, and the rest of the soldiers did the same.

Before anything happened, Yuuri knew that it was a hopeless fight. If his magic had done nothing, how could simple steel do anything against such a monster? But still he hoped, tears slipping down his face.

A dark shape passed over them, too fast to make out, and Yuuri only heard Takeshi’s cry of pain before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. Um, oops? :)
> 
> 2\. But yay Yuuri and Viktor finally communicated like adults and talked about their feelings and crap and are more comfortable in their relationship!!!!111!!!!11!1 So that's a plus. (I guess.)
> 
>  
> 
> Feeeeeel free to scream at me in the comments or on Tumblr or whatever :3


	8. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few moments from Viktor's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good thing about finally going on break: More time to write!!
> 
> A less good thing about finally going on break: I have to relinquish my laptop for a month so it can get repaired, and I have to resort to stealing the family one until I get it back!! (yikes)
> 
> Also I'm feeling a little under the weather at the moment, so hopefully it goes away soon :( Please enjoy the following chapter, though!
> 
> (haha i ended up tagging the swan princess i've been caught in my adoration of the movie and now i think the plot will center around it now oops sorry not really)

It was late, but Viktor couldn’t sleep. Something was keeping him awake, itching at him, making him jittery. So he lit the tallest candle he could find and went to the library to find something so mind-numbingly boring that he’d be able to finally close his eyes.

Viktor wandered around the library to light the lanterns around the room so he wouldn’t be reading in darkness, then settled in on a comfy chair, confident that he’d be asleep in minutes.

But two hours, a few replaced candles, and one large history book later, he was still up. Viktor groaned and placed the heavy tome on the table in front of him, gazing over at the couch where he and Yuuri had sat a few days ago. He wondered how Yuuri was now, already missing the warmth of his arms around his waist, and the feeling of his hand in his. If they’d left at the time Viktor thought they did, they should already be well out to sea. Yuuri would be asleep . . . unlike him.

He leaned back into his chair and stared at the ceiling. It was strange to be alone with his thoughts like this. In the past seven days, his mind had been so consumed with thoughts of _Yuuri Yuuri Yuuri_ that Viktor had no space to think of anything else. Everything was so exciting and thrilling and _new_ that every moment with Yuuri was a surprise.

Even Yuuri's _appearance_ here was a surprise—the name _Katsuki Mari_ had been on the guest attendance list, not her little brother's, so Viktor hadn't had any time to prepare himself. He probably still would've been blown away by him even if he knew he was coming, though. Because frankly, under the hundreds of candles in the ballroom, Yuuri looked _ethereal_.

Viktor had soaked in the beauty of Yuuri's face, the small, timid smile, and the slight defocusing of his warm brown eyes as he made his way down the steps without his glasses. And he'd clamped down on the urge to leap forward and pull Yuuri into a crushing hug and babble about how much he'd missed him and apologize immensely for never replying to his letters (though his apologies would never be enough) and confess how much he _loved_ him—because Yuuri had smiled at him like he would a stranger, polite and detached. Like they hadn’t spent ten years growing up together.

He swore then to find Yuuri at the banquet tonight and tell him everything. Yuuri deserved to know every iota of Viktor’s selfishness.

Later that night, Yuuri surprised him again. He’d swept Viktor away, tipsy and endearing and lovely, into the evening with utter grace. It was the beginning of their tentative journey to mend their strained relationship, and it had only strengthened since then.

And it was a shock to discover that Yuuri had Viktor’s mark. Viktor had dreamed of finding his “best friend,” as his mother had described his soulmate, for his entire life. To find that his possible soulmate was his best friend—and he said "possible" because for some strange reason Viktor only had one feather instead of the two—was akin to fate laughing in his face. It was almost punishing him for trying to find someone to replace the person he already loved.

But it all worked out in the end.

Viktor yawned and stretched out his limbs, both hearing and feeling his bones crack satisfyingly. He was finally beginning to feel a little tired. It was time to get up and go to bed. But as soon as the thought passed through his mind, Viktor heard footsteps.

_Thumpthumpthump—_

He straightened in his seat, tensing. It was too late for anyone to be up.

Then the door burst open revealing his little brother and . . . one of Yuuri’s soldiers?

 _“Vitya!”_ Yuri shouted, his already-loud voice deafening after so many hours of silence. And there was something in it that made him uneasy—the sound of fear. Yuri never let any fear show.

Viktor swallowed and looked from his brother to the soldier, alarmed. The boy’s—what else could he be besides a boy?—hair was dusted with thick snowflakes, and he was leaning heavily on the doorknob.

“Yura, what’s wrong with him?” he urged, pushing the chair back as he stood. He rushed over to them, and the boy collapsed. Viktor and Yuri caught him before he hit the floor, and it was only then that he realized that there was a gash in his armor, stained red.

Viktor’s blood chilled. “Yuuri.”

“We were attacked,” the boy whispered, looking paler. He must have run all the way here with that injury, Viktor realized, feeling sick at the thought. “You need to save Prince Yuuri!” His voice was raised, but his grip on Viktor’s sleeve was quickly weakening.

“Yura, take him to the infirmary!” Viktor commanded, seeing the terror he felt mirrored in his brother’s. “I need to go.”

He didn’t remember what happened after that. Because suddenly he had a lantern in hand and was on his horse, urging him to move faster down the road to the port. That was the quickest route—Yuuri couldn’t have traveled any other way. Thick snow was pelting his body and obstructing his vision as he went, but Viktor didn’t care. How long ago had Yuuri left? How long had it been since that soldier came to warn him? He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t lose hope.

Then the candle illuminated something in the distance. The Katsuki family crest.

Viktor leapt off his horse, too much in a hurry to slow down properly. “ _Yuuri!”_ he shouted, scrambling out of the snowbank and in the direction of the overturned carriage. He wrenched open the door, simply _hoping_ that his beloved would be there. But he wasn’t, and Viktor’s panic increased tenfold.

And when he saw the little gold ring on its chain, glinting innocently in the snow, a fist seized his heart. He picked it up, fingers trembling enough that he almost dropped it. _Yuuri’s ring._

“V-Viktor? That you?”

Viktor whirled around, trying to locate the barely audible voice. _Takeshi?_ Then the candle glowed over the area, illuminating the dozen or so bodies lying on the ground, half-covered in ice like they were already _dead_ —

He swallowed the bile crawling up his throat and shoved the chain into his pocket. “Takeshi?” Viktor asked again, scanning around him. Then he glimpsed weak movement shifting the snow around. “ _Takeshi?_ ” he gasped, rushing over and kneeling by the man’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I see that Kenjirou was able to warn you,” he said instead, gripping Viktor’s arm. He looked as bad as that soldier—Kenjirou—or _worse_ , even.

“We need to get you help,” Viktor said frantically, pressing his palms to the wound on Takeshi’s side. A mixture of melting ice and blood soon soaked his hands, but Viktor could only keep looking wildly around him.

“You have to find Yuuri,” Takeshi insisted, coughing painfully. A wet sheen of red painted his lips, and Viktor nearly dissolved into hysteria. Shit, shit, _shit,_ how long had he been _lying_ there? How long had everyone _else_ been lying there? Were they already dead? Viktor refused to think of what that implied.

“I can’t _leave_ you here!”

But Takeshi shook his head. “Yuuri’s more important,” he said simply, a sad smile on his face. “He’s one of my best friends, and my kingdom’s prince. You need to save him.”

Viktor could only look frantically around him, unsure of what to do. The need to look for Yuuri was tugging at his heart, restless and urgent, but Viktor closed his eyes, making his decision. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle, calling for the horse that he’d jumped off of. And when his horse trotted up to them, Viktor let out a relieved sigh, thankful that at least _something_ was going right.

He glanced worriedly at Takeshi, whose movements were growing weaker with each passing moment. He had to hurry.

Viktor reached down and froze the air around them, making a platform of ice to lift Takeshi’s stirring body onto the saddle. He had no knowledge of making a sled, and knew that it would take too much time to learn on the spot, so this was the best alternative. Then he carefully hauled him onto the horse, apologizing guiltily when Takeshi let out a pained noise.

“Viktor, what . . . ?”

“Yuuri would never forgive me if I left you,” Viktor said, pulling himself up behind him, “and neither would I.”

Viktor had never been too close with Takeshi whenever he had visited Hasetsu, only having passing conversations with him and Yuuko, but he still felt a sense of friendship with him. Takeshi’s death would deeply hurt the family waiting for him at home—Yuuko, his three little girls, Minako, and even the Katsukis themselves—and that strengthened his resolve. He couldn’t leave him to die.

“Huh,” Takeshi murmured. “You’re a good guy after all. I guess . . . I can’t be _too_ mad at you anymore.”

When he slumped forward, Viktor cursed, stabilizing the other before he could fall. It was too cold for him out here to last much longer. When Viktor rode away, his heart ached for the dozen or so soldiers he’d left behind, regretful that he couldn’t save more than the man in front of him.

On the way back, he passed more people on horseback and a few carriages. When Viktor slowed to talk to them, they told him that Yuri had sent them to get the other injured soldiers. He was already beating himself up for not saving more people, so Viktor was grateful to them for getting the others. It must’ve been Kenjirou who had asked Yuri to help.

And the palace was in chaos when Viktor returned.

A few attendants hurried to his side and took Takeshi’s semi-conscious body from him, but Viktor was too numb to protest. It seemed that everyone was awake, that every candle was burning, and that everyone’s voice was raised. It was a little strange to see them all milling about in their nightclothes, but he supposed that Yuri must’ve informed them of what happened after Viktor had run out of the palace. And since he didn't see him in the crowd of royals, he assumed that Yuri was still with Kenjirou.

He smiled slightly, despite himself. His little brother was growing more and more responsible with each passing day.

“Vitya!” his mother cried, whirling around when she saw him. She fretted around, brushing snow from his shoulders and hair, and Viktor felt the ache pass through his body again, reminding him of what had occurred. “Vitya, Yura was telling me that Yuuri was _hurt!_ What happened?”

He stared at her, unable to comprehend the question. _What_ _happened?_ Viktor thought distantly. Too much. Too much to put into coherent words.

“Vitya, what happened to Yuuri?” his mother asked again, softer. The noise from everyone else died as they listened, anxious of what Viktor was going to say. He was scared, too. Because if he said it aloud, then it would actually be real. And he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Yuuri—Yuuri was—” Viktor swallowed, then he pressed his lips together as everything finally caught up to him. His voice cracked with unshed tears. “Mama, he was kidnapped. Yuuri’s gone.”

Instant uproar.

“ _What?”_

“No way!”

“I thought Yuuri left already!”

Viktor felt numb as Phichit Chulanont’s voice rang clear even through the din. “We need to find him!” he shouted, struggling against Leo de Iglesia and Ji Guang-hong’s hold on his arms. “Yuuri’s my best friend and I’m not going to stop until he’s back home. I—!”

Then his father placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, effectively silencing him.

“I know that everyone’s upset about Yuuri’s disappearance, but we can’t stand here and shout over each other,” the Thai king said calmly. “We will need to work together to figure out who did this.”

“I agree,” Viktor’s mother said, her voice only wavering slightly as she turned to face them all. “I will to send a letter to the queen of Japan, and tell her about what has happened to her brother. Then we’ll send a search party in the morning.”

Viktor looked at her with disbelief. “But Mama, that’ll be too late! Yuuri could—”

“In the _morning,_ Vitya,” his mother said sternly, though her blue eyes shone with tears. He fell quiet. He'd nearly forgotten how much she loved Yuuri, caring for him as much as he and Yuri. “It’ll be too dangerous if we look for him in the dark.”

Viktor bowed his head, thoroughly chastised. “Yes, Mama.”

Mama smiled softly and brushed his hair away from his face. “Thank you.” Then she turned back to her guests, her voice stronger, “The search for Prince Katsuki Yuuri of Japan will begin at sunrise. Please rest until then if you wish to help. Goodnight.”

A cheer arose from Mama’s words, but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to join in. That nagging feeling from the library—that must’ve been Yuuri calling for help. Yuuri had _needed_ him, and Viktor had done nothing _._

The necklace was in his pocket now. If—if they never found him, the ring would . . . it would be the only thing Viktor had left of his first love.

Viktor _needed_ to be part of that first search party.

Soon, everyone trickled out of the entrance hall until it was just Viktor and his mother. “Mama, I—” he began, but she already knew what he was going to say.

“ _No_ , Vitya,” she said, her eyes sad, yet understanding. “You’re in too much pain to think clearly. You need to rest.”

“But Yuuri _needs_ me,” he begged. “I can’t rest until I know he’s safe. Until he’s back. With me.” Fresh tears stung Viktor’s eyes and he turned his head to the side so his mother wouldn’t see. But of course she saw. She always knew.

“Vitya . . . did you finally realize you’re in love with Yuuri?”

Her phrasing made Viktor stare at her. “F-Finally realize? No, I’ve loved him for much longer than now.” He was too stunned at her implication to even feel embarrassed that he had just confessed his love for his childhood friend to his mother.

“Love? Yes,” she agreed. “ _In_ love? It’s been growing ever since you two were children, but _now_ I can see it.”

Viktor was quiet, hating that she was right. This week—this whole _meeting each other again_ thing—was him truly falling for Katsuki Yuuri. The realization couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Rest, _solnyshko,_ ” Mama said softly, rubbing his shoulder. “You can join the next search, but I won’t let you look for Yuuri while you’re dead on your feet.”

He nodded jerkily, then stumbled off in the direction of his room. Viktor thought that he’d never be able to sleep, but exhaustion finally caught up to him once he hit the bed.

His dreams were bittersweet.

 

* * *

 

And the tension only got worse the next morning.

Viktor walked into the meeting room they'd been using for the conference for the past week—still feeling like a mess, though looking much better—and straight into a screaming match. He blinked, stunned to silence as he stood there in the doorway. Viktor searched for his mother, who was standing placidly by her place at the head of the table.

He went to her.

“We can’t send any more people out there,” the American diplomat was shouting, and when Viktor glanced over, he looked more frustrated than he had ever seen him. The man had always seemed like a kind, easy-going person during the meetings, but now—now he was _furious_. “We’re losing our _children,_ Nadia! _Children!”_

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Viktor asked, immediately moving protectively next to her.

She sighed, massaging her temples. His mother looked _exhausted._ “Prince Phichit Chulanont and Emperor Ji Guang-hong were taken as well.”

It took Viktor a few moments to process that, unable to take any more bombshells being thrown at him. “By the same person?” he finally managed, amazed at how sure his voice was.

“We assume so.”

Viktor glanced at the rest of the people in the meeting room, who were all sitting somberly in their places with the exceptions of Mama and the American diplomat. And Phichit’s father looked like he had aged ten years since yesterday, the grief of suddenly losing his son taking its toll on him and sapping the quiet strength he had.

Viktor then noticed that five chairs were distinctly empty: his, Yuuri’s, Phichit’s, Guang-hong’s, and—no. It couldn’t be. He was  _fine_ last night.

“Nadia, tell your son who _else_ we lost in the first search party,” the diplomat growled.

He looked at her fearfully. “Mama?”

And for the first time since Viktor walked in, he could see the thin wall that was holding back his mother’s emotions. Cracks were webbing the surface, and Viktor’s words were the last blows that it took before it finally crumbled.

“They took Yura,” his mother said, breaking down. “It happened so fast that none of us realized until their saddles were empty.”

“ _Y-You_ went?”

“Yes.”

Viktor swallowed, unable to believe that so many people he cared for had been taken in so little time. Why would someone kidnap Yuuri? His baby brother? The others? It didn’t make _sense_.

“The annual conference is officially over,” his mother announced, sounding somewhat steady again even as she didn't meet any of their eyes. “It is up to you whether you wish to leave or stay here, and Russia’s doors will be open for anyone who remains. You owe us nothing. The next expedition will be tomorrow morning for those who still want to continue.”

And one by one, the royals left the room.

Sara Crispino was both visibly and audibly distraught, having only heard the news about Yuuri and the others this morning. Her brother and Emil Nekola of the Czech Republic were comforting her as they walked out, trying to console her as best they could. They later passed her on to Mila, who murmured something about hot chocolate. Viktor vaguely remembered Sara’s sunny smile last night as she plotted to push Yuuri into his arms so that they could dance again, and felt another pang of sorrow at her distress.

Leo de la Iglesia, however, had to be shook by his father in order to move, and even then he moved stiffly. Viktor suddenly registered how close he was to Phichit, Yuuri, and _especially_ Guang-hong.

It was hard to believe that Yuuri didn’t know how much and how many people cared for him. There was so much love for the soft-spoken prince that it hurt Viktor that Yuuri wasn’t even aware of it all.

When everyone had left, Viktor sagged down into the seat next to her. “Mama, Yuuri has my mark,” he said brokenly. He buried his face in his hands. “Do—do you think that’s why he was taken? Is it my fault?”

“The enemies of the Katsuki family are far and few between. There could be no other reason,” Mama agreed. “But _you_ are not to blame. It’s the fault of whoever took him and the others.” Then she hesitated slightly before reaching out and touching his arm. “I’m so sorry, Vitya. You finally found your soulmate and _this_ had to happen.”

He didn’t— _couldn’t_ say anything about the tiny patches of silver blooming next to his soulmark. His mother was right. It hadn’t been there when Yuuri was with him, and had only started forming before he pulled off his sleeping shirt this morning. Viktor’s love, his soulmate, was gone. But he’d still managed to leave Viktor with a little part of himself, though he hadn't been in love with him yet.

And now, Viktor Nikiforov _was_ in love with Katsuki Yuuri, and he couldn’t even tell him.

It hurt too much for words.

 

* * *

 

They searched again and again and again, but a week soon passed and the four missing were pronounced dead. They had vanished like smoke, blanketing the nation with sorrow.

It would be hard for every kingdom that had lost someone, but China would be hit even harder with the loss of their young emperor.

Viktor refused to believe it though, and swore to himself that he would bring everyone back. Everyone had since left the palace, with the exception of Chris, and with him Viktor threw himself even harder into his training. He’d laxed somewhat during the conference, but after a few test runs with his bow, his aim remained as impeccable as ever.

Takeshi, now conscious after a few days, told him about the monster. Kenjirou—Viktor remembered him now as the boy Yuuri danced with—was stirring feebly, golden eyes blinking dazedly.

“Our swords could do nothing against its skin. Yuuri’s magic only weakened it, but even then it wasn’t much,” Takeshi said heavily. “But I’m with you, I’m not going to believe Yuuri’s dead. He’s too stubborn to die.”

“Do you think the other people were taken to use against Prince Yuuri?” Kenjirou piped up. All of the soldiers had seen Yuuri’s reckless, so _stupidly_ brave attempt to defeat the monster, and were now aware that their prince had a magical affinity. “I’ve heard stories about people stealing magic from the Soulbonded because of its strength.”

Viktor nearly laughed because that was _ridiculous—_ you couldn't just  _steal_ magic—but Takeshi looked uneasy at his words so Viktor quieted.

“The former king and queen _were_ worried about that happening and swore us to secrecy about Yuuri’s soulmark," Takeshi admitted. "And . . . and there _were_ rumors about a sorcerer, but we ignored them.”

“So if we find this sorcerer, we find Yuuri, my brother, and the others,” Viktor surmised, determination filling him.

“In theory, yes,” Takeshi said. “But we have to plan. Plan and wait for them to slip up.” Then he glanced at Viktor, looking ashamed. “I know I said I didn't believe Yuuri was—was _dead,_ but how do we know that they’re alive, though? I know that this isn’t what you want to hear, but there’s no proof.”

“I _know_ they’re alive,” Viktor said harshly. “I won’t accept anything else.”

Viktor left the infirmary and told them to rest, which the two were glad to do. They had healed well during the past week, but Kenjirou was still dizzy when he moved suddenly, and the gash in Takeshi's side still bled sometimes, even with the stitches. They couldn’t do much but stay in bed until they were better.

But as for Viktor, he strode purposefully toward the library, armed with the new information.

He wouldn't rest until his family and friends were back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. I'm kinda mad at myself for writing the family name then the given name for the _past eight chapters_ bc it sounds real awkward now and I am Upset™. I may go back and edit that if it bothers me more in the future. 
> 
> 2\. I'm trying to imply that Yuuri speaks in Japanese to Takeshi and Minami, hence the honorifics and stuff when they refer to each other. But when they talk to Viktor, all the formalities are dropped and they just use given names. If I've messed that up in previous chapters please let me know.
> 
> 3\. I've been trying to make this a Yuuri-centric plot, but I couldn't avoid putting Viktor's point of view in if I wanted a well-rounded story. So there may be other POVs in the future and I'm sorry if it reads weird later.
> 
> 4\. Yuuri should show up next chapter. :D 
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time! :)


	9. Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little iffy about this chapter (due to me being dumb and editing directly in AO3 and losing most of said edits and then trying to remember what I'd done), but I hope it still reads well. 
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

Yuuri’s fingers were curled around a cold hand. He was being led somewhere.

How strange. This was his home, wasn't it? It was Mari’s coronation, and they were the host kingdom, so shouldn't _he_ have been the one leading this person around?

"Where are you taking me?" Yuuri heard himself say, the words falling from his mouth like water. Something about this situation felt a little off, but he couldn't find it within himself to feel too troubled about any of it.

"I thought you said that we were going to go talk outside," the person said, voice sounding kind, and Yuuri looked up and only glimpsed a flash of warm blue before the sequence melted away.

Something began to stir in Yuuri's chest.

No. _No—don't go—!_

Yuuri's eyes flew open, his breath escaping in short gasps. He lay there for a while, trying to calm his heart, and when he touched his fingers to his cheeks, Yuuri was surprised to feel that there were tears dripping down his face.

Oh.

He'd been dreaming.

When he sat up and absently wiped the wetness from his cheeks and under his glasses, he looked around, staring at the sharp silver light of the half moon and the bare branches of a forest that had replaced the dream's warm glow inside Hasetsu’s ballroom. Yuuri tried to remember more about the dream, but the more he thought, the faster the memories faded. It bothered him more than it should have.

With a small frown, Yuuri placed his hand over his chest and glanced over the still surface of the lake next to him. He didn't recognize this place. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was—

Then he stilled when he caught something dark smeared on the back of his hand, mingling with the salty tears.

Even with the dim lighting, he could tell that it was blood.

And it wasn’t his.

Yuuri's breath hitched as anxiety crashed over him. He remembered now. He remembered everything.

_They’d been attacked._

Yuuri clenched the fist over his chest into the fabric of his yukata and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together in a weak attempt to stave off the impending panic. _They’d been attacked_ , he told himself again, desperately wishing to be wrong. Yuuri didn’t want to think about what that meant, no matter how pronounced it was.

Unsteadily, he got to his feet. “Is there anyone there?” he screamed, the words tearing themselves out of his throat. But when no one answered, Yuuri collapsed onto the ground again, feeling lost.

When he gazed blankly into the shadows in front of him, Yuuri could clearly visualize the monster again. It was shadowy in the forest when it had come, but its eyes had glowed poison green, easily visible in the darkness. And when Yuuri’s magic burst, he caught a momentary glimpse of furred wings and sharp teeth. After the creature had attacked, everything had gone hazy—he didn’t remember much after that. Yuuri felt slightly sick. What had happened to everyone else? He didn’t know.

He didn’t _know._

The world was blurring around him again, it was closing in, and Yuuri wheezed as he crawled to the base of a nearby tree. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold and keep the breaking pieces together, and fruitlessly blinked away the tears in his eyes.

Yuuri needed to find a safe place, but he was alone in unfamiliar surroundings. He curled into a ball and closed his eyes again, reaching inside himself and locking his heart and mind behind barred doors. He didn't want to think anymore.

Time passed.

He was in a strange fugue state for the rest of the night and into the next, blinking in and out of awareness. Yuuri’s vision was glassy and unfocused as shadows passed around him, and the sound of murmuring voices eventually reached his ears. When his mind cleared, Yuuri’s mouth felt as if there was cotton stuffed into it. He felt strangely off-center and decidedly not himself. Yuuri hadn’t . . . hadn't _left himself_ in years. And experiencing it again was terrifying. That dissociation from his own being was unnerving and shot shards of worry into his body.

Yuuri was tired. Spots of darkness were appearing before his eyes. He so desperately wanted to be held close by loving arms—he wanted someone else to ground him, remind him that he was _here_ and that it would be okay.

“Ah, so you’re awake. The spell took a while to manifest within your body—your mind was strangely hard to reach.”

Yuuri vaguely registered the voice, but once the realization eventually made itself known in his fuzzy mind, his heart jolted. He wasn’t alone anymore.

“Who are you?” Yuuri tried to say, looking around for the source of the voice, but a screechy honk escaped his lips instead. Wide-eyed, he clapped his hands to his mouth, subsequently finding himself with a mouthful of white feathers.

(Staring at his hands—wings—Yuuri felt nauseous again.)

(This wasn’t his body.)

(This wasn’t _him_.)

“This won’t last for long, Yuuri,” the man in front of him said offhandedly, standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, his arms crossed. “At least be grateful that I was kind enough to give you a few moments in your human form.”

Yuuri was still frozen in place, lifting his head to stare in horror at the person there. What was happening to him? What _had_ happened to him? “Who are you?” he croaked again, and _again_ heard something that didn’t sound like any language he knew stream from his mouth.

But surprisingly, as if he had understood the honks and hisses, the man seemed to consider this. “I am Satou,” he then said, his face unreadable.

A family name? If Yuuri had to guess, Satou was maybe in his early or even mid forties, but the unsure shuffling of a shadowy figure drew Yuuri’s attention elsewhere.

“My son, Keiichi,” Satou said disinterestedly, seeing where Yuuri’s eyes had gone. “He’ll be bringing you meals while you’re here.”

Yuuri wasn’t one to judge based on appearances, but hearing his apathy when speaking about and to his son set off warning bells in Yuuri’s mind. There was no care or love or warmth there. When looking closer, Yuuri could tell that Satou was tall and sturdily built under the dark robes he was wearing—the direct opposite of Yuuri’s willowy dancer frame, even if he wasn’t by any means short—and his eyes spelled malice. His entire being screamed dangerous, and there was just the slightest feeling of dark magic emanating off of him . . .

Yuuri’s wings ruffled with disgust.

Keiichi, meanwhile, was looking around anxiously, and Yuuri softened slightly when he saw him. When their eyes met, Keiichi averted his gaze before saying quietly, “The lake is what will make you human again.” And when Satou nodded curtly, Keiichi continued in that same quiet pitch, “The moonlight on the water is what triggers the transformation.”

Yuuri bobbed his head. Keiichi seemed kind (or at least more understanding than his father), but there was no way he could ever completely lower his guard around him.

He had no choice but to offer a grudging trust toward his captors—even if he sensed that Satou’s magical signature was all over the curse placed on him. He didn’t know what part Keiichi played in this plan. Whatever it was.

Yuuri’s legs were shaking as he waddled to the lakeshore. Wait. How had he recognized Satou’s magic? Was this something new? And finally seeing himself in the water put his situation into perspective.

Yuuri was a swan. From the little he could see of himself in the dark reflection of the lake, he actually looked . . . kind of regal. His neck was sinuous and his body was proud, giving Yuuri a grace he never could have achieved even while dancing. The feathers covering his body were pure white, save for the two on his breast that seemed to mimic his soulmarks. And for some reason, there was a gilded collar, snapped just around his throat. A cheap imitation of Viktor's gift—his _gift!_

His wings fluttered as they touched his neck. No. No, it couldn't be. Where was it? Please, _please,_ no.

"Don't test my patience, Yuuri," Satou growled, and Yuuri flinched.

Holding back his tears, he waded hesitantly into the icy lake, then relaxed as he lowered his body into the water. It was cold, yes, but it was strangely easy to ignore as Yuuri swam aimlessly around, trying to pretend that the eyes of his captors weren’t following his every move. Yuuri lifted his head to the sky, seeing the faint light of the moon behind snow-heavy clouds. And he didn’t have to wait long for it because the water under his wings suddenly began to glow—taking on a warm, golden hue—before swirling around his form.

He instinctively spread his wings and closed his eyes, letting the spell run its course. It felt strangely similar to his own magic, but felt different enough that Yuuri knew that it wasn’t his. The foreign magic inside then rushed out of his body, removing the traces of the swan he had been. When the water cleared, Yuuri—having arms and fingers and toes and everything that his human self had—was standing tall in the mist.

Yuuri could still feel remnants of the curse sticking to him as he stayed there, like stubborn stains that refused to come out of nice clothing. He then stepped out of the lake, determinedly ignoring the water soaking his shoes and the hem of his yukata. The collar around his throat had grown with the transformation.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why I’m here?” Yuuri asked, keeping his expression stony even as the relief at hearing his regular voice washed over him. The presence of his human self grounded him, allowing him to breathe and finally begin to take stock of his situation. He was angry—no, _furious._ There was no room for sadness yet. This person had ambushed them only a few night ago and severely hurt his men. His _family_.

“Your magic,” Satou finally said after a few moments of silence, his expression just _daring_ Yuuri to refute him. "I'm taking it."

Yuuri’s eyes widened, feeling as if all the breath had been knocked out of him. How did he know about his soulmark? His magic? No one was supposed to.

Then his heart stopped as his mind kept processing this. _Viktor._ Was he hurt? _No,_ Yuuri decided after. From the little he knew about him, Satou seemed like the type of person to brag about their achievements, and since Russia was one of the more powerful kingdoms, taking its heir would be the greatest accomplishment of all.

“Like hell,” he then said flatly, his glare still present.

Satou shrugged, and the affable smile on his face unnerved Yuuri more than anything else he had done. “I’ve got other ways to convince you, _Yuuri-ouji_ ,” he said genially. “Maybe another day as a swan will do it?”

Yuuri stared at him, his stomach dropping as his earlier thoughts were proven right. The sticky bits of dark magic inside weren’t his imagination at all—it was real. He wouldn’t be human for much longer.

He had been trained to deal with hostage situations since he was little (even if his self-defense was woefully shabby), but he had to tread carefully here. Yuuri’s captor was clever. And even worse, he clearly had the upper hand.

“And if I escape once you leave?” Yuuri challenged weakly, trying to get as much information as he could, but Satou merely laughed, sending chills down Yuuri’s spine.

“You could try,” he said in that same carefree tone, though there was a tinge of angry impatience that made Yuuri back down, afraid of what would happen if he pushed the other too far. “You’ll only become a swan again once the sun rises, though, and like my dear son said, this lake is the only thing that can make you human again once it sets.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, his fists shaking under the long sleeves of his yukata. It was a good plan, he thought grudgingly—Satou had covered every caveat. If he escaped, he wouldn’t get far on foot, and even then he didn’t even know where he was. But if he flew out of here and managed to get back to St. Petersburg—if he was still in Russia—who would know that the swan was Katsuki Yuuri himself? There would be no chance for escaping on his own.

“Why do you need _me?_ ” Yuuri asked. “Couldn’t you get—I don’t know, some other sorcerer to steal magic from?”

Satou stepped closer to Yuuri, making him take an involuntary step back. “Soul magic is one of the more powerful types, and why should I settle for less after working so hard to take yours?” he said in reply, coming even closer. “With yours especially, I would have enough to conquer entire kingdoms. I could burn _everything_ to the ground.”

His smile was mad.

“I’m not giving you _anything,_ ” Yuuri said, his voice wavering as he started to feel the first drops of fear in his system. He stepped back again, feeling his shoulders hit a tree, and wary of the strange look that had appeared in Satou’s eyes.

Then Satou’s hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping easily around Yuuri’s throat. His grip wasn’t strong at all, but Yuuri began choking. He couldn’t catch his breath—it was like he’d forgotten how. Now matter how much air he tried to force down his lungs, it wouldn’t work.

“The collar wasn’t just for show, Yuuri,” Satou said, sounding as if he was scolding a young child for misbehaving. Yuuri’s grip on Satou’s wrist was rapidly weakening from lack of oxygen. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to use it, but now that I’ve activated it, it will siphon every last bit of magic out of you. Not a pleasant feeling, right?”

“You’re a _monster_ ,” Yuuri choked, coughs wracking his body once Satou threw him onto the ground. Keiichi was still standing to the side, watching fearfully.

“I’d prefer a more pleasant term, but yes. I suppose I am,” he agreed. “I’ll be by soon. _With_ something that will hopefully make you more willing to cooperate.”

He left then, and his son silently followed.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri stayed up until sunrise with his legs pulled to his chest, watching the moon slowly sink down into the horizon. It was cold, but he barely felt it. He _could_ feel, however, the collar draining his magic bit by bit. Yuuri had run his fingers around the warm metal, searching for any weaknesses or divots that he could take advantage of, but there were none. It was like it had always been there.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep—maybe only a few minutes after he became a swan again—but Yuuri woke up when a sudden noise pricked his ears.

“Good afternoon, Yuuri-sama,” Satou greeted from behind him, and it took Yuuri a moment to register that it was in Japanese. Then it took him another moment to hate himself for already recognizing his voice only after a few hours within their first meeting.

Why was he back so soon?

Yuuri didn’t mean to say anything back, but an involuntary hiss bubbled from his throat as he glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Satou crooned in the same language, crouching and running his fingers through the soft feathers across Yuuri’s slender neck. He stiffened when Satou’s fingers hooked under the collar, his knuckles pressing into the tender skin. “It’s rude to your host. You of all people should know that.”

Yuuri hissed again, unable to move away; his body was warring with him. The human, more rational part of Yuuri wanted to run to safety, but the reckless swan he was now wanted to fight the intruder who was encroaching on _his_ area. Wanted to chase the creature away and—

No. Yuuri was human. He wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —forget that.

Satou released his neck and stood up. Yuuri’s webbed foot made a small splash as he stepped backwards into the water.

 _“Keiichi!”_ Satou barked, glaring at some spot in the distance. “Bring them over!”

Then Yuuri’s guard dropped instantly (dammit, he’d always had a soft spot for the younger ones) as Keiichi hesitantly peeked out from behind a tree.

In the sunlight, Yuuri could clearly see how young Satou’s son actually was. He couldn’t be much older than Yuri, but his shy behavior was far cry from Russia’s second-in-line. The strange urge to protect him once again reared in Yuuri’s mind when he saw the minute trembles along his body.

Keiichi’s head was ducked as he stepped out of the shadows, carefully cradling a small brown bear, a white kitten, and what seemed to be a _hamster_ in his arms. His dark eyes flitted to Yuuri’s for a second—did he imagine it? It had been so quick—then became carefully blank as he looked again at the three animals in his arms.

Yuuri still couldn’t tell whether they were real or simply toys, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him that they were the “somethings” that Satou had threatened him with yesterday. They couldn’t have been anything other than humans . . . stuck in animal form.

Satou then snapped something at Keiichi, and the boy flinched back before gently depositing the three humans(?) onto the ground. “Get out of my sight,” he then barked, making Keiichi bow and hurry away.

When he was gone, Satou’s attention returned to Yuuri, who was still half in the lake. “Yuuri, this” —he waved his arm carelessly over the three bodies— “is what I call collateral damage.”

He was speaking in English now. He was probably bored of taunting Yuuri in his mother tongue.

“I mentioned that I wanted your magic, correct?” Satou continued, picking up the hamster now. Yuuri stiffened, knowing that that was a _person_ in his hand. “Give me that, and they won’t get hurt. Easy, right?” Satou squeezed the fragile animal slightly, and a small, unconscious squeak of pain escaped its little mouth.

Yuuri didn’t think. “Stop!” he shouted, stumbling forward, but Satou had already placed the hamster back down. There was a satisfied grin on his face from Yuuri’s impulsive reaction, and Yuuri then stopped in his tracks, his feathers puffing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt Thailand’s heir,” Satou said, still grinning. “Or any of the others, really. I don’t care much about them.” Then a sinister expression passed over his face. “Unless, of course, you don’t give me what I’m asking for.”

Yuuri let out some unintelligible noise, caught on Satou’s previous words. _Thailand’s . . . heir?_

That was Phichit.

 _Phichit_ , who was supposed to be safe at the palace in St. Petersburg, or on his way home already. Yuuri stared at the three animals on the ground, a chilling fear running through his body. Who else had Satou taken to get at Yuuri?

“Oh, they'll introduce themselves once they wake up,” he said, noticing where Yuuri’s eyes were and gesturing offhandedly to the little brown bear. "Give me your magic, and they won't suffer."

But Yuuri could only stare at the unmoving body of the white kitten, pure horror filling him when he heard familiar sleepy mumbles coming from its mouth _._ He’d grown up listening to them for years.

_Yuri._

Yuuri glared at Satou fiercely, with the need to _defend_ filling him. How dare he take his best friend? How dare he use his little brother against him? Why them? Why the people he cared about?

“You— _you—!"_

Yuuri couldn’t get any coherent words out, feeling angry tears fill his eyes. He stalked closer and protectively spread his wings over his friends.

“ _Leave."_

Satou looked surprised for a moment, but then he threw his head back and laughed. “I think this game just got a lot more fun! I’ll have to see what paths you decide to take, Prince Yuuri.”

If you were to ask someone if Yuuri had ever hated anyone before, they’d respond with an overwhelming (and quite affronted, honestly) _no._ Yuuri didn’t even think he was capable of hating anybody—he hated confrontation, and hated causing trouble. So why go the efforts of hating someone if you could just ignore them and pretend they didn’t exist?

But Yuuri—Yuuri had _never_ felt surer that he hated anyone more than he did Satou in that very moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few ramblings:
> 
> 1\. Hello villain!! It took me a while to figure this out, but I finally decided on having an original character for our antagonist, instead of Swan Lake's/Swan Princess's Rothbart. Why? For reasons, I suppose. I heard that Satou's a really common surname in Japan, so why not give him that? Also we got to meet his poor son (I was trying to find aesthetically pleasing names, and Keiichi was one of them and it also had a really nice meaning that I forget)! He'll be showing up a fair bit throughout the story, so please don't forget about him!!
> 
> ~~and stealing magic? what kind of evil, anime power-hungry villain are you, satou?~~
> 
> 2\. Yuuri's a little all over the place in terms of emotions right now, and this is probably bc I was a little all over the place too while writing it haha. How does one anxiety-ridden katsudon son react to a kidnapping?
> 
> 3\. We get to see what happened to the others!! Or at least, a little preview of what's been done to them. I probably should've kidnapped less people, but I wanted Yuuri to have a lot of company . . . which means Satou also wanted our soulmarked prince to have a lot of company. 
> 
>  
> 
> Remember how I mentioned I've begun pre-writing? I've got two and a half chapters ready (plus another interlude), so let's keep hoping I'll be able to have a good buffer between weeks and not have you lovely ones waiting too long :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and see you next time!


	10. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLIPPITY FLIP FLOP I'VE GOT SOME LOVELY ART I NEED TO SHARE WITH YOU!!!!
> 
> Normally, I'd save something like this for the end notes, but _no._ You ALL must see this. So [@little-burnt-marshmallow](http://little-burnt-marshmallow.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr (the sweetie that they are) drew me TWO soft and lovely Yuuris in outfits based off of Odette's in the actual Swan Princess movie, and I highly recommend checking them out [here](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/post/162068784301/little-burnt-marshmallow-i-drew-yuuri-inspired) and [here](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/post/162121998071/little-burnt-marshmallow-from-on-matters-of-the)!!! If you've seen the movie, his clothing should look quite familiar!!
> 
> So if you wanna share anything with me, please let me know!!! I screamed little-burnt-marshmallow's ear off when they messaged me on Tumblr, bc I was so so sooooo excited. This is the first art I've ever gotten for anything I've written, and I'm so incredibly grateful to them for taking the time to draw something based on my story.
> 
> Anyway, enough with my screaming, please enjoy the next chapter!!
> 
>  
> 
>  **EDIT:** It was suggested to me that I _should_ put up a tag for implied child abuse, which I have done. I'm not going to be writing anything about it (so there won't be anything descriptive), so I'm just making references to what's happening when Yuuri isn't there, since we're (mostly) seeing his point of view.

To Yuuri, the reality of the situation only really sunk in once everyone woke up.

Even with his two successive transformations, it still felt like a dream. Like if he thought hard enough, he’d open his eyes to the wooden ceiling of his little bunk in the ship, already heading back home. He’d have the chain of Viktor’s ring twined around his fingers, and Yuuri would smile because everything was perfect now.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t. It was _real._ This reality was too harsh to be anything but.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri glimpsed the kitten—Yuri—stirring slowly. Was he awake? Then the stream of expletives stirring from his mouth answered Yuuri’s question.

He panicked.

“Where the fuck am I?” the kitten screamed with Yuri’s voice, tripping over himself as he tried to run off.

Yuuri scrambled to his feet. “Yurio!” he tried to placate, waddling over as quickly as he could, and he nearly fell over when the kitten suddenly turned on him, looking suspicious. Or at least, as much as a cat could.

“Who are you?” Yuri demanded, his pointy white ears flattening. “Who said you could call me that?”

“It’s me. Yuuri.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. “No way . . . _Katsudon?_ Why do you look like that?”

The others were up now, having been woken by Yuri’s shouts. “Yuuri?” the bear and hamster said together, craning their heads to look up at him. Yuuri recognized Phichit’s voice, and the other was . . .

“Guang-hong?” Yuuri blurted. He was taken too?

“Yeah?” asked the bear, its head tilted slightly.

Then there was only a moment of silence before the three of them began screaming over each other. Yuuri could only catch a little of it, including “You’re okay, thank goodness!” and “Fuck, why am I a cat?” and “I’m so small, what’s _happening?”_

Yuuri hopped around a little, feeling nervous about all the noise. He couldn’t explain much to them—he barely knew anything himself.

“Um, hello?” spoke a voice, barely audible over the shouts.

Yuuri turned around and threateningly spread his wings again, but then lowered them when he realized who it was. What was with this family and suddenly appearing out of nowhere? It had happened at least twice already.

But ignoring the display, Keiichi smiled warmly, his arms laden with plates of food. “I hope Yuuri-san is hungry,” he said in Japanese, setting the dishes down. Then switching to English, “Father’s spell makes you understandable to other magic users. Sorry if I scared you.”

At the reminder that he hadn’t eaten since last night—and that it was past noon by now—Yuuri felt his stomach grumble. “How can you speak Japanese?” he asked, doing his best to not look at the food.

“Oh, I lived in Japan until of last week,” Keiichi said, answering easily. “It was a little outside of Hasetsu, actually. Would you like to eat? I promise I didn’t poison it,” he added, sitting in perfect _seiza_ even on the gravelly ground. There was still a small smile on his face, and Yuuri couldn’t help but notice that he looked so much happier when he wasn’t around his father.

“Yuuri, who’s this guy?” Yuri asked, slinking under Yuuri’s slightly outstretched wing. He glanced up at him, his green eyes still as piercing as they were when he was human.

“Satou Keiichi,” Keiichi introduced himself politely. “I’m afraid I don’t know anyone else besides Prince Yuuri, though.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “Can we trust—”

“Phichit Chulanont,” Phichit interrupted cheerfully as he scurried up. He offered his paw. “Pleased to meet you, Keiichi.”

“Oh! Hello,” he said, holding it gently between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m Ji Guang-hong,” Guang-hong said next. “Hi.”

Then they all looked at Yuri, who huffed and reluctantly held his paw out. “Yuri Plisetsky. Nice meeting you.”

Keiichi smiled again. “I hope we’ll get along well. And . . . I’m sorry about my father. He’s really stubborn when he wants to be.”

At the mention of Satou, Yuuri felt himself wavering. Could he trust this person? Was he someone he could lower his guard around? “Um, he said he wanted my magic, right?” Yuuri ventured, seeing the surprise in both Guang-hong and Yuri’s expressions at his words. “How is he going to get that?”

“What do you mean by _magic?”_ Yuri demanded, slapping Yuuri’s body with his paw. He wasn’t very big so it didn’t do much, and so Yuuri barely felt it. “Are you a wizard?”

Even then, Yuuri looked helplessly at Phichit, who merely gestured with his paw. _Go on._

“No, but . . . I have a soulmark,” Yuuri finally admitted, his wings fluttering nervously. Yuri’s eyes flooded with understanding, most likely because he knew that Viktor had one as well. “That’s why I have magic.”

“And Father wants that,” Keiichi agreed, looking solemn. “The collar around Prince Yuuri’s neck is already taking his magic from his body, but it’s a slow process. That’s why he wants you to give it willingly—to speed up the transfer—by threatening the people he thinks you care about the most.”

“What I’m wondering is how your father knows that,” Guang-hong said, now sitting down with his feet wiggling. “It’s a little strange, I think.”

“Why isn’t Vitya—” Yuri cut himself off, but Yuuri knew what he was going to say. He knew as well as anyone what could happen to Viktor if it became common knowledge that the heir to the Russian throne had a soulmark.

But selfishly, Yuuri wished Viktor was here with him, then became immediately angry with himself at the thought. He should be _glad_ that Viktor wasn’t taken. Who knew what Satou would’ve done if he knew that Viktor had a soulmark as well? Or if he was Yuuri’s soulmate? He wouldn’t be able to take it if Viktor was hurt. Yuuri couldn’t help but think that he’d feel much better if he was at his side, though . . .

“Vitya? I’m not sure who that is,” Keiichi said, looking confused, yet somehow relieved that the talk moved away from his father. But instead of wondering why, Yuuri’s panic skyrocketed. Keiichi couldn’t know about Viktor. Not with the slight risk of him telling Satou.

“He’s no one,” Yuuri blurted, feeling his heart break as he said so. Viktor could never be so insignificant to him. “He’s . . . he’s no one."

Keiichi looked like he wanted to ask more, but thankfully, he nodded, accepting the flimsy explanation. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast, then,” he said, standing and leaving behind the untouched plates. “Goodnight.”

Long after Keiichi was gone, Guang-hong asked, his voice small, “Are we going to stay as animals forever?”

Yuuri had his eyes to the sky, waiting for the moon to rise. “I’m not actually sure how your curse works,” he admitted. They hadn’t been told much during Keiichi’s visit. “All I know is—for me, I mean—is that I have to be on the lake at night, and then I’ll be human again. Maybe—maybe it’ll be the same for you?”

“There’s no harm in trying,” Phichit said.

But it didn’t work. While Yuuri was human as soon as the moonlight washed over his wings, the others were still stuck in animal form.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, restlessly running a hand through his hair. “I thought—I thought it would—”

“It’s _fine,_ Katsudon. I’ll hit you if you keep apologizing,” Yuri said, looking resigned. “Your curse is different from ours. It’s just something we need to accept.”

“It’s not your fault,” Guang-hong said firmly. “And well, now we know. So thank you.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Yuuri. It’s not like you could control any of this,” Phichit added, smiling warmly. “We’ll break this curse somehow.”

They all moved away from each other then, and Yuuri knew that it was because they needed some time to process everything. After all, he wasn’t even sure what was going on either. But later that night, Yuri came up to him, his eyes blinking sleepily.

"Hello, Yurio. Tired?" Yuuri said, smiling at him before lifting his eyes to stare at the moon. It was as beautiful as always, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to see the moon in the same way ever again.

Then Yuri huffed, leaping gracefully into Yuuri’s lap. "Can't believe you still call me that," he mumbled, curling into a ball. It seemed that being a kitten only increased his penchant for cuddling when he was tired. "You've known me forever—even longer than Beka has."

The name was unfamiliar. "Beka?"

"Otabek," Yuri amended, opening one eye. "He calls me Yura. Like everyone else does. Well, except for Deda, but he’s different."

"Oh. Um, do you want me to call you that? _Would_ you like it?" The fluster in Yuuri’s voice was clear.

Yuri closed his eye again and snuggled deeper into the warmth. "Whatever you want, really. I couldn't care less. Now shut up, I’m going to sleep."

Yuuri suppressed laughter, easily seeing through him even if he currently wasn't human. Yuri was still young, and had this roundabout way of asking for affection—for something familiar in the unfamiliarity. Yuuri had no problem with indulging that at all, especially as he saw Yuri's green eyes droop with exhaustion. He couldn't blame him. It had been a trying day for everyone, and they'd have to deal with this until they were found. Or figured a way out of here. Whichever came first.

He then lay down on the ground, ignoring the coldness of the air around them, and summoned a bit of his magic for warmth. Yuuri held the kitten close.

"Goodnight, Yura,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams."

 

* * *

 

After a few days had passed, Yuuri decided that it was about time he should figure out how to actually move around in his swan form. He’d already figured out how to walk and run without falling over (and wasn’t _that_ a sight—swans were supposed to be graceful), and swimming was second nature in this body. But there was one thing that Yuuri was a little afraid to attempt.

“Just try, Yuuri,” Phichit encouraged, perched on top of Guang-hong’s head like some sort of strange-looking hat. “You can’t call yourself a swan without it.”

“I don’t know . . .” he said, doubtfully examining his wings. “Would these things _really_ hold me up?”

“If you fail, you fail,” Yuri said bluntly. “You’re a dancer, aren’t you? You’ve gotta practice to keep in form. Or to learn how to fly, I guess.”

Yuuri blinked. Did—did he just give him encouragement? It was sweet of him. Then before Yuuri could think on it any longer, he nodded and said as he began to head toward the water, “Okay. You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a swan now. I can’t limit myself.”

It didn't work at first, though. Yuuri was overthinking it, letting his human brain override the swan-like instincts already in him, but once Phichit told him to relax and try again, Yuuri was able to get off the ground for a few seconds before he stiffened with surprise and fell into the water.

And it felt _wonderful;_ it sparked an entirely new emotion within him. He’d never felt so— _so—_

 _“Free,”_ Yuuri breathed, staring at his wings in a different light. He could go anywhere, do anything, whatever he wanted.

"You did it!" Guang-hong cheered, his little paws waving around with excitement.

"I’m trying again," Yuuri said, determined to get things right this time.

The rest of the day consisted of flight practice, and the feel of the wind whipping through his feathers and into his eyes was strangely exhilarating. He'd thought he'd be _terrified_ of being so high up in the air—of having no safety cushion to catch him if he fell—but Yuuri the Swan didn't worry about that. Birds never fell unless they wanted to.

Later that night, Yuuri's body was aching pleasantly as he floated in the lake, akin to a good dance practice with Minako-sensei or even Lilia. He felt lighter. Limitless.

Free.

(But the collar around his neck reminded him of its presence every time he breathed, or looked into the water, telling him that he was still trapped here.)

(And what of the others? They couldn't fly at all. They couldn’t become human again unless the curse was broken.)

(What could he do?)

"Yuuri, the sun’s setting!” Phichit called brightly from the shore, his voice still loud even in that tiny hamster body. “Come back now!”

Yuuri dutifully followed Phichit’s instructions. The lake became deeper the farther out he went, and he didn’t want to become human again to just fall into the water. He swam to where the full moon reflected in the lake and closed his eyes, feeling the spell already changing him.

When it was finished, Yuuri shivered as the icy water (once again) soaked the hem of his yukata and his flats. The discomfort wasn’t anything new, but it was always very unpleasant because they were the only clothes he owned now. It usually took them some time to dry in the cold air, but using his magic to do so would make them smell quite strange. And it was a waste as well, given the way the collar was working.

Yuuri reached up and tugged at it (vainly hoping that it would weaken), hating the feeling it gave him. He knew that the ring that Viktor had given him before he left was gone now, lost when the carriage was attacked. The collar—and his soulmarks, in a way—were the only things that stayed during Yuuri’s transformation.

It had only been a _week,_ and Yuuri could already feel the collar’s effects. He was slightly slower and a little weaker, but he couldn’t let Satou win. He _would_ break this spell and get himself and everyone else out of here.

Yuuri dropped bonelessly at the shore as everyone came up to him. The cold no longer bothered Yuuri for some reason, even with the thin clothing, and he supposed gloomily that that was because his magic was forcibly keeping him warm. It was another lovely side effect of the thing around this throat.

“I never get tired of seeing that,” Phichit said, still trying to stay chipper even amidst this hopelessness. “It’s actually a beautiful-looking spell.”

Yuuri understood where Phichit was coming from—the glow of the water was warm and inviting during the transformation, and he couldn’t even imagine what it looked like from an outsider’s perspective. But still he wilted at the words, something that didn’t escape Yuri’s notice.

“Yuuri’s _cursed,_ you shithead,” he sniped, sounding angry, but Phichit didn’t seem fazed by the insult at all; they’d long since realized that Yuri’s abrasive words were covers for his fear and uncertainty. “And if you haven’t noticed, so are we,” he continued, the bite in his voice fading. “We have to plan an escape at some point.”

“Guys, please don’t fight,” Guang-hong pleaded. “We have to work together to get out of here.”

Yuuri agreed. “We have to get Viktor back here so we can tell him how to break the spell.”

“Vow of faithfulness, I know, I _know,”_ Yuri said, prowling moodily around them. “But how are we going to get him _here?_ We don’t even know where we are!”

Yuuri was about to answer, but then a tingle of dark magic sparked around them, making them all look around with alarm.

“Yuuri, he’s _coming!”_ Phichit hissed unnecessarily, scrambling around for a hiding spot. “We’ll be watching, okay?” They were all wary of what Satou could do to them after Yuuri had told them about what he'd done to Phichit that first day. He'd looked so fragile in that large hand that it terrified Yuuri; Phichit could have easily died that night. He could only be grateful that Satou had been feeling merciful at that moment.

“Okay. See you later,” Yuuri whispered, standing up. He steeled himself for the upcoming interaction, but couldn’t control the shaking in his curled hands.

“How’s my swan prince?” a voice called, and Yuuri let out a deep breath and straightened his back as Satou came into view. He’d be stronger this time. “Is your evening well so far?”

“It was great until _you_ showed up,” Yuuri muttered.

After the first few nights, Satou’s visits had decreased to once every couple days, becoming sporadic at best. It always kept the four on edge because there was no set pattern to when he’d “check up” on them. He was only around for maybe ten minutes, making sure that they were still there, but always taunting Yuuri. He’d accidentally mentioned how to actually break the curse (“A soulmate’s love is a disgustingly strong magic—proving a vow of faithfulness in front of the whole world would be enough.”), but had dismissed it, unknowing of the fact that Yuuri knew who his soulmate was.

Yuuri didn’t blame him. They _were_ supposed to be rare.

“Ah, don’t be rude,” Satou chided, clapping a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. This time, he couldn’t stop the shudder from his touch. His touch was revolting—full of dark magic. “It’s unbecoming of a prince.”

Then Satou left.

After a few seconds, Yuuri collapsed to his knees again, breathing heavily. _So much for being stronger,_ he thought bitterly. Tears stung his eyes, just as they did after every visit. It was almost easy to forget that he was a prisoner, but Satou’s appearances never failed to remind Yuuri of the danger they were all in. The façade of strength was just too much to maintain, and he was terrified of the day Satou decided that he was tired of keeping Yuuri in check and just killed everyone with him.

He missed Viktor. He missed having the feeling of his arms around him, his hands, his smile. He missed his family back home.

He missed feeling safe.

“Yuuri, it’ll be okay,” Guang-hong whispered when he came over, patting Yuuri’s leg with a padded paw. It was comforting. “We’ll get out of here somehow.”

He breathed deeply. "Yeah. Thanks, Guang-hong."

Later found Yuuri slipping off his shoes and stretching his tired limbs.

"What are you doing?" Keiichi asked curiously when he arrived, his head tilted like a small child's.

"Practicing," he replied cheerfully, standing up with a bounce. He needed to get his mind off his encounter with Satou. Then he held out his hand. "Would you like to join me?"

Keiichi took it, though somewhat hesitantly. Then Yuuri smiled and twirled him, earning a surprised laugh from the other.

"It's been a while since I've been able to dance," Yuuri said, feeling regretful that he hadn't tried to during those first few days. What a waste.

"Well, I can't dance, Prince Yuuri," Keiichi said, attempting to let go of him.

But then Yuri chimed in, "Katsudon's a bit of an idiot most times, but his dance technique isn't one to be ignored."

"You could learn a lot from him," Phichit said, grinning.

"O-Okay," Keiichi said, looking back at Yuuri, and Yuuri smiled again.

"Let's dance, then."

Keiichi was a fast learner; his steps became more and more fluid as they continued, and he beamed when he successfully lifted Yuuri up despite being much smaller. Phichit cheered.

Yuuri, though, squeaked in surprise at suddenly being so far off the ground, then gasped out, "How are you doing that?"

"I've always been pretty strong," he responded, slightly bashful. He set Yuuri down and then awkwardly shifted his feet. "Um, well, that was fun. Thanks for teaching me how to dance, Prince Yuuri."

"It was no problem, Keiichi." Yuuri reached out to pat his shoulder, then froze when the other flinched away.

They stared at each other for a moment, wide-eyed, before Keiichi blurted, "I'm sorry. I don't know what that was."

But Yuuri's smile softened, even as his hands clenched as he realized what had just happened. "It's fine. Goodnight."

"Yes. Uh, goodnight."

"See you tomorrow, Keiichi!" Guang-hong called, waving.

"See you!"

"Bye."

Keiichi gave them a tiny wave. "Goodbye."

But Yuuri had lain awake for a while after they finished dinner, Keiichi's terrified face still imprinted on his retinas every time he closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was planning.

The frustration that he had no idea where they were only built with each day, and Yuuri could see it in the expressions of the others as well.

Now that he could fly, more doorways had been opened (metaphorically) for escape. They had originally come up with the idea to try to find a map in Satou’s castle, but he was always everywhere they looked, stalking around the palace. They would get caught easily without knowing the layout. So what could else could they do?

Yuuri tried to think of an alternative, and after a few hours he had finally found his answer. But it wasn’t foolproof—it all relied on the compliance of a certain someone who visited them three times a day.

It had been a week and a half since everyone had been captured, and Keiichi had warmed up significantly to the four of them in that time—something that Yuuri was glad to notice. Keiichi was still relatively soft-spoken, but there was a quiet kindness there, even under the darkness he had grown up with.

Keiichi was unusually small for a sixteen-year-old boy, maybe only coming up to Yuuri’s shoulder when he was human in the evenings. (When learning this, it had actually pleased Yuri immensely because he was “no longer the shortest” among their little group.) Keiichi’s face was also decidedly androgynous, with large, brown eyes, and it didn’t help much that he also kept his dark hair long. He apparently looked more like his late mother, he claimed Satou had said, and Yuuri could see why. Because unlike his father, Keiichi’s smiles were full of warmth, rather than madness and cruelty.

But growing up with Satou as a father made him fearful and nervous, and Yuuri was working determinedly to help him feel safer around them. Because for this absurdly dangerous plan of his, he needed Keiichi to be brave.

And Yuuri began setting it into motion, waiting until that night to breach the question.

Keiichi ate with them during most meals, greatly preferring their company over his father’s even if they weren’t human most of the time. Their curse broke the language barrier anyway.

After his nightly transformation, Yuuri was sitting down on a little stone ledge farther around the lake, staring at the starry sky again as he absently held all three animals in his lap. Yuri and Guang-hong, at fifteen and seventeen respectively, were still young enough that they weren’t afraid to ask physical affection. And honestly, Yuuri himself liked the comfort as well.

“Phichit, I think I came up with another escape plan,” he said, voice soft as to not disturb the two, who were beginning to doze off.

Phichit brightened. “Really? Well, let’s hear it!”

It was still odd to connect the two sides of him together—the bubbly human and the dark-furred hamster—but it still seemed that even after a week and a half of being in an animal’s body, Phichit’s mind was still as sharp as ever. There was no danger of him slipping.

Yuuri fidgeted a little as he thought of what he was going to say, earning a disgruntled noise from Yuri. He already knew that Phichit wasn’t going to like it very much. It was undeniably risky. “What if—what if we ask Keiichi? To get the map for us?”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence. Phichit was staring at him in shock, proving Yuuri's earlier suspicions. “You can’t be serious.” Then at Yuuri’s sheepish smile, he groaned. He probably would’ve thrown his arms up in the air if he could. “Yuuri, I know you have a soft spot for the kid, but he’s the son of the guy who _kidnapped_ us. There’s no way he’d betray his father for—you know— _us._ And what if he tells?”

“You like him too, though,” Yuuri argued, his voice a heated whisper. “And it’s obvious what Satou’s doing to him. Don’t you think he’d want to get out of such a dangerous place? Even if we’ve only known him for a few days, Keiichi _trusts_ us. We have a better chance of success than you think.”

“I know, I _know,”_ Phichit said, frustrated. Then he sighed. “Fine. I’ll admit that it’s a pretty solid plan. We’ll ask him at dinner tonight."

But when it came down to it, Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure how to approach the topic.

He’d made a fire when it was time to eat, giving all of them some warmth in the cold air, and he invited Keiichi to sit next to him. The conversation shifted around a lot as they continued eating, jumping eventually to the topic of families.

“You must miss them,” Keiichi said, his dark eyes unreadable in the shadows from the flickering fire.

“I do,” Yuuri agreed, eating the rice and beans that was given to him. The others had different foods, though, due to their animal forms. “We need to get home. Our families are definitely worried about us by now.”

Keiichi was quiet, clearly thinking about what Yuuri had just said. A realization hit him then. Did Satou ever worry about his son? Give him any love? Then Keiichi spoke again.

“Is . . . is your soulmate waiting for you too?”

Yuuri hesitated. Based on the way Satou had sounded when telling him how to actually break the curse, he didn’t know that Yuuri had found his soulmate. Could this have been a trick to make Yuuri confess the one thing that would mess everything up?

But when he looked into Keiichi’s eyes and saw only warmth, with no deceit at all, Yuuri crumbled. If he wanted Keiichi to trust them, Yuuri had to trust him as well. He nodded slightly. “Yeah. I miss him a lot.”

He didn’t ask Keiichi about the map just yet, though, sensing his confusion. It broke Yuuri’s heart to see that the concept of familial love was so foreign to him, and when Phichit sent him a meaningful look, Yuuri shook his head. He’d try again when Keiichi was more clear-minded.

The next morning, before Keiichi was due to arrive, Yuuri finally told everyone about his plan, and asked everyone to make him feel comfortable so he’d be more willing to steal a map behind his father’s back. Then his face twisted in distaste. “Wait, that came out wrong. I _know_ it feels like we’re manipulating a kid—”

“—If you’re calling him a kid, then that means _I’m_ a kid—”

“—Yuri, you _are_ a kid. You’re younger than Yuuri, Guang-hong, and me—”

 _“Please,”_ Yuuri said, exasperated. When everyone swiveled their heads to look at him, he flushed nervously and stammered out, “Even if he isn’t close enough to hear us, Keiichi could still figure out something’s wrong because of the range of animal noises! We have to let him know that he can trust us, and that we care about him much more than Satou does.”

Then Keiichi arrived with his usual smile, arms laden with food as they always were, and the noise died down.

Despite what Yuuri was saying earlier sounded like, he genuinely did like Keiichi. Yuuri had grown to care for him in the period of time they’d gotten to know him—he was a sweet kid, like Yuri was when he wasn’t trying to act tough, and Yuuri wanted to get him out of here as soon as he could.

He had suspicions that Satou didn’t care for his son like he should’ve been doing because sometimes there were dark, fingerprint-shaped marks on his otherwise pale skin, none of which could point to anything even remotely good.

Yuuri had to work harder. For everyone.

But when Yuuri first posed the question of the possibility of a map during breakfast later, trying to sound as casual as he could, Keiichi’s dark eyes widened and he stood up, staring at Yuuri like he’d just hurled obscenities at him. Then he stumbled away, making excuses that he had something to do, and the three royals-turned-animals at Yuuri’s feet rolled their eyes at him.

“That went well,” Yuri said, giving in to the temptation to lick his fur. Then he choked and spat out a bit of hair. “Shit, that’s disgusting. Why’d you let me do that?”

And when Keiichi brought them lunch a few hours later, he dropped it off and left as quickly as he came, giving Yuuri no time at all to ask again. It was frustrating.

This continued for another half week, with no avail. They’d been held captive for a total of two, clearly showing with the way the moon was steadily shrinking in size every night.

Yuuri had to work harder to keep the fire burning even if it was becoming more difficult to do so as more of his magic was sucked out by the collar with each passing day.

But tonight marked a change. There was something dark on Keiichi’s face when he brought them dinner, something that hadn’t been there during breakfast or lunch that day.

“Keiichi?” Yuuri asked, horror building inside him as he gently brushed his thumb over the mark. “Is this a _bruise?”_

“Oh, um, Father was feeling angry this afternoon when I didn’t get that spell right,” he said simply, wincing when Yuuri accidentally pressed too hard. “Did it finally show up?”

Yuuri knew that Satou was training his son in the Dark Arts, and that Keiichi had admitted before that he didn’t like it at all. He felt awful while learning the dark spells, he claimed, like spiders were crawling all over his arms, and wished he could do more Light magic—something purer, like the magic in soulmarks.

He was too shocked at the blatant display of mistreatment to say anything in reply just then, but the others had _exploded._

“What the _fuck,_ ” Yuri swore, every hair on his body standing on end. “Does this happen normally to you? I swear that I’m gonna _kill_ that guy when this shitty spell is broken.”

“That isn’t right at all!” Guang-hong shouted, little growls accentuating his words.

Phichit, however, merely vibrated with how furious he was.

And Yuuri swallowed down his anger, his words (amazingly) only marginally shaking as he was finally able to speak. “Keiichi, I know that I’ve asked you this many times already, but we really need a map if we want to break this curse. And when we do, we can get you out of here, and I promise that we’ll _never_ hurt you.” He stared searchingly into Keiichi’s eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Keiichi blinked, suddenly teary-eyed. He didn’t say anything back, but merely set the food down and hesitantly wrapped his arms around Yuuri. Slightly surprised, Yuuri hugged him back, resolutely ignoring the wetness soaking his clothes and the slight trembling of the body in his arms. He rubbed Keiichi’s back comfortingly, but then Keiichi let go of him and smiled before he left, long hair swaying he did.

“What was that?” Yuri asked, looking decidedly thrown off.

“Do you think we got through to him, Yuuri?” Phichit asked, his eyes still trained on the path that Keiichi had disappeared down. He had understood.

Yuuri kneeled and clenched the fabric of his yukata over his lap. “I hope so.”

It was morning now, and Yuuri was tired. He was tired of being a prisoner, tired of being scared of Satou, and tired of being scared every time the sun rose. Yuuri knew that he should be grateful he could become human again at all, unlike the others, but having that small taste every night only made it harder when he turned back into a swan.

“Everyone?” a soft voice called. “I brought breakfast.”

Yuuri swam back to shore. Being brought food like this only made Yuuri feel even more like a prisoner, but this was the only way they were able to get fed. He couldn’t blame Keiichi for anything his father did, though.

Honestly, Yuuri wouldn’t have been annoyed if a map hadn’t been brought back with them, but after the meal Keiichi stuck his hand within his robes and brought out a crinkled sheet of paper. Yuuri flapped his wings in excitement, and he saw everyone else perk up as well. Was that what he thought it was?

Keiichi knelt down by the four cursed humans and unfolded the paper, revealing the greens of forests, the blues of oceans and lakes, and the grays of roads and cities.

“This is where we are now,” he said, pointing at the spot on the map. It was surprisingly bare in that corner, which Keiichi had explained was because this part of the country wasn’t very populated, so not many knew that this lake existed.

“Where’s St. Petersburg?” Yuuri asked anxiously, knowing that reading Cyrillic was still difficult for him, even if his spoken Russian was much better.

“Here,” Yuri said almost instantly, slapping a paw down over the words. “We’ll have to go northeast.”

“Why St. Petersburg?” Keiichi asked.

“My soulmate’s there,” Yuuri said, nervous energy running through him. “He’ll be able to help us.”

“Um, is that the ‘Vitya’ you were talking about before?” he ventured, looking unsure.

Yuuri’s breath hitched. He didn’t realize Keiichi would even remember the name. Then he swallowed the ball of emotion forming in his throat. “Yes. Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Okay. Then I’ll be by the lake again at sunset if you need anything,” Keiichi said, getting up from his crouch. Yuuri nodded, and the boy smiled brilliantly, looking much brighter and much happier than they had ever seen him. “Please uphold your promise.”

“Of course,” Yuuri said, no longer fazed when his words came out as a soft honk. But Keiichi’s smile remained. He returned to his father’s castle soon after, leaving Yuuri to discuss the plan.

“I’m the only one who can fly, so I’ll lead Viktor here myself. It’ll be quicker that way,” he told them. “I’ll be counting on you to lead me back.”

“I don’t like this,” Guang-hong said nervously, not taking his eyes off the map. “It’s really dangerous. Shouldn’t we wait a little longer?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No. It’s now or never. If we wait, it gives Satou more time to figure out what we’re doing.”

“Yuuri’s right,” Phichit grudgingly admitted. “We’d only hold him behind if we tried to come with him. We’ll have to help Yuuri some other way.”

Yuuri was grateful for Phichit’s support. Then he looked at the other member of their group, noticing that he was uncharacteristically quiet. “Yura?” he asked. Yuuri fluffed him with the edge of his wing. “Yura?”

Yuri huffed, looking away. “Of _course_ you and Vitya are soulmates. I’ve never seen two people more grossly in love, and it’s probably _his_ fault that you didn’t come back all those years ago.”

It . . . it was more both their faults, really.

“Yura—” he tried, but Yuri cut him off, grumbling.

“Anyway, I hate this plan, but there’s no other choice. Bring Vitya back here tonight, got it? Then we’ll get Keiichi out of here.”

Yuuri smiled wryly. “Got it.”

Then he flew off, heart and resolve strengthened by the goodbyes of his friends, and the knowledge that he’d finally— _finally_ —see Viktor again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. So. This story is beginning to turn into a darker reimagining of the Swan Princess, and it's all because Satou keeps doing things that cause me distress. He isn't a kind person. He's controlling and selfish and greedy, and doesn't care much for Keiichi at all. Or his prisoners, really. I'm not too fond of writing him.
> 
> 2\. I'm trying to treat the child abuse as carefully as I can, so _please_ give me some advice if it's being portrayed in an offensive way. Should I put that it's implied in the tags? I've been trying to do a bit of research about victims, and the things I've been reading make me really sad. Abusers blame the victims, make it seem like everything is their fault, and the victims accept this. Yuuri and the others are noticing what's happening to Keiichi, and are quietly trying to get him out of the situation. But it's hard to do when they're prisoners themselves.
> 
> 3\. The dance scene almost didn't happen. I literally wrote it maybe half an hour before publishing this chapter because I had a sudden urge to see Yuuri dancing because it's something that would calm him down. He's not a skater in this AU, so of course he'd turn to dance, much like his canon character does. And why not have Keiichi learn as well?
> 
> 4\. Yup, so it seems that Yuuri's going to find Viktor alone, instead of with a partner like in the movie. How different will the search be? What will happen once he's out in the world? (And just to let you know, the next chapter was one of my favorites to write.)
> 
> 5\. I'm beginning to write a post on how magic functions in this story/universe on Tumblr, and I'll post a link as soon as I've finished! It's a little more difficult to catch all the wayward thoughts in my brain than I first assumed, so it's taking longer than originally planned haha :)  
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you liked it!!


	11. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a link to more art in the end notes!! If you want to show me something, don't be afraid to tag me in anything on Tumblr or just shoot me an ask and talk to me :)
> 
> Aaaaaah I'm so excited for this chapter, so I hope you'll like it too!

“Thanks for taking care of us, Viktor,” Takeshi said, a bandage still wrapped around his head. And Viktor knew that there was another one around his still-healing stomach, hidden under his shirt.

Takeshi and the rest of the Katsuki royal family’s guard were leaving today, finally being cleared by the doctor for long-distance travel. They were all looking much healthier after the attack, and for that Viktor was glad.

It had been a scary two weeks, with some of the soldiers having even worse injuries than Takeshi, but thankfully they had all survived, with strict orders to rest once they returned to Japan. Katsuki Mari’s answering letter regarding the attack had arrived a couple days ago, sounding professional and distant like a monarch should, but Viktor could see the shakiness of the handwriting when he read the “ _Please write back with any news of Prince Yuuri.”_

Viktor wasn’t the only one worried sick about those who were missing.

“I’ll keep you updated on anything,” he promised, patting Takeshi’s shoulder. And noting the absence of someone, Viktor added, “Is your father not coming?” Takeshi’s father had mostly minor injuries, with the exception of a concussion from being thrown off his horse.

Takeshi shook his head, sighing. “No, he wants to stay behind to help. It’s his ‘duty as Captain’ or something like that. And besides, I think the rocking of the boat would make him dizzy. He'll come home later once he feels better.”

“I understand. Have a safe journey.”

“I’ll run back if anything happens again,” Kenjirou piped up, a determined smile on his face.

“Hopefully nothing will,” Takeshi muttered, shooting Viktor a wry grin. “I’d rather not have any more life-threatening attacks for a while. And—uh, remember to take care of yourself, too, Viktor. Yuuri would hate it if you got hurt because of him.”

Viktor swallowed. “Of course.”

He then raised his hand to wave as the horses trotted off, disappearing off of the palace grounds and out of the gates and into the city. But his smile faded from his face when he turned around to head back inside.

Viktor knew that he looked terrible.

It was an undisputed fact among the entire palace, and he didn’t pretend that he couldn’t hear the whispered gossip within the staff. He’d been ignoring his duties as heir, missing meals, shutting himself in the library late into the night and until the early morning hours— _the tsesarevich is going mad,_ they’d said.

And Yakov and his grandfather weren’t there to curb his impulses. They’d gone to inspect the Plisetsky estate every couple of months as they always did, making sure that it was protected from thieves and that it would be in perfect condition once Yuri became of age to inherit the land. But now that Yuri was missing (he couldn’t be anything but missing, Viktor wouldn’t allow himself to believe that his baby brother was dead), everything was more or less up in the air.

Since the attack, Viktor had spent every day searching for Yuuri and the others from sunrise until well after the moon had risen in the sky. It wasn’t healthy—he wasn’t dense enough to think otherwise—but there was no one else who would.

Besides Chris, that was. He couldn’t ask for a better friend for putting up with him at his worst.

“Mama, I’m going out again,” Viktor said about an hour later, pulling his quiver of arrows over his shoulder. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Be back for the ball tomorrow,” he heard her say back, voice soft. “Yakov and your grandfather will be returning then, and we can’t celebrate your birthday without you.”

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I’ll make sure he’s safe,” Chris said, giving Viktor’s mother a smile and a quick hug before they walked out. Viktor felt a small twinge of guilt for forgetting to give her a proper goodbye, but his pride made him keep walking. What an awful son he was . . .

“Thank you, Christophe,” Mama told him. “It does make me feel better knowing you’re out there with him. Stay warm.”

Once he and Chris were on horseback and well out of St. Petersburg, Chris flicked Viktor’s ear.

“Ow!” Viktor said, rubbing the spot petulantly. He was too old for pouting, but he did so anyway. “What was that for?”

“Your mother is worried sick about you, Viktor,” he said, frowning. And he knew that Chris was being serious for once. “You can’t keep doing this to her, or yourself. You have a duty to your kingdom to help her and prepare for when you someday assume the throne.”

Chris would know. He was the king of his own country, after all. But Viktor didn’t want to think about that.

“Well, I can’t stop looking for them,” Viktor ground out, his grip on his horse’s reins tightening. He knew he was being childish, but he continued, “What if it was Masumi out there, Chris? Or your sister? Wouldn’t you want to keep looking, too?”

“But this isn’t about me. It’s about _you_ , and that you’re _killing_ yourself,” Chris burst, his carefully-controlled emotions finally letting themselves loose. “I can’t watch you anymore. I stayed here with you for two more weeks because I _knew_ you’d forget to even go home if you didn’t have someone to remind you. Viktor, you’re my best friend, and I’m sorry, but I’m telling you that you need to _give up._ If you didn’t find them by now, you never will.”

Viktor could feel anger stirring inside him. How could Chris _say_ that to him? Didn’t he understand how important this was to him? How he _needed_ to find his family again? He couldn’t believe it.

“Then _leave,_ ” Viktor said harshly, the built-up exhaustion and frustration making him say things he’d never say normally. He could see the words hit Chris like a slap, and instantly, the rage inside him simmered down, leaving behind a cold regret. “No, wait. Chris—” His chest heaved. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

Chris had stopped his mare and was looking at Viktor, his expression resigned. “Okay.” He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his curly hair. “Okay. I’ll leave so you can cool down for a bit. I didn’t want to tell you this now, but I’m going back home the morning after the ball. I’ve proposed to Masumi, but I told him we wouldn’t leave for Switzerland until after your birthday. We still need to find someone to manage the bakery, but he has high hopes that we’ll find someone good enough for the job.”

There was a thin silver band around his left ring finger that Viktor hadn’t noticed before. He felt sick.

“Chris . . .”

“Come back soon, Viktor,” was all that he said before turning the mare around and heading back in the direction they came.

Viktor gazed helplessly at the spot where Chris’s figure had disappeared into the horizon, then groaned. He was so selfish. For everything.

He’d begged Chris to stay with him long after the conference had concluded, needing someone to help him train. To keep him company on the searches when everyone had gone home. Viktor had taken advantage of Chris’s friendship, his kindness, his compassion, and hadn’t even _thanked_ him for it. He hadn’t even noticed his best friend’s engagement to his long-time love.

Viktor tangled his fingers into his hair, not caring about the pain. What kind of friend was he?

And with guilt and sorrow alike eating their way into his stomach, Viktor soldiered on.

 

* * *

 

Time passed by strangely in the sky.

Yuuri didn’t have time to feel bored or tired as he flew towards St. Petersburg, perfectly content with seeing the landscape below. There were barely any clouds, with the exception of a few wispy ones that Yuuri took great pleasure in flying through (even if they made him wet), and when he flew higher, the setting sun even provided a bit of warmth.

Yuuri stopped once to drink some water from a river and to rest his weary wings, but otherwise it was a straight flight to the city. He was a little worried about everyone he’d left back at the lake, and hoped that they were okay without him. Yuuri had to hurry back so Satou wouldn’t even realize he was gone.

He was about to wonder how he’d even find Viktor now, but Yuuri didn’t have to dwell on that for too long.

“ _Yuuri!”_

He stopped, his wings flapping wildly. Viktor?

_“Yuuri! Yura!”_

There was no mistaking it. That was _Viktor’s_ voice.

_“Phichit! Guang-hong!”_

He dove into the pine trees, wincing slightly when the sharp branches bit into his skin. “Viktor! Viktor, I’m here!” Yuuri cried desperately, shaking off the browned needles from his wings. He swiveled around wildly in midair, trying to figure out where Viktor was. Where was he? Where did he go? He was so close—!

Then all rational thought flew out of his mind when he heard Viktor’s voice once more. “ _I’m here!”_ Yuuri sobbed again, just wanting to be held in his arms and feel safe again. He flew in the direction where he last heard him, his joy making him forget that he was trapped in a swan’s body.

It made him forget that Viktor wouldn’t even recognize him.

“ _Viktor!”_ Yuuri cried, having what would be a smile on his face if he’d been in his human form. Viktor’s eyes were widening and Yuuri’s vision tunneled as he absorbed the sight of his warm blue eyes and shocked expression. He didn’t even notice Viktor slowly raising his arm to reach for something behind him. “I missed you—”

Then he heard the familiar _thwip_ of an arrow, and Yuuri instinctively twisted away. He glanced at the steel-tipped weapon lodged in the tree bark above him, and he gulped nervously, his heartbeat erratic.

What—what had just happened?

“Before he left, Takeshi told me that the beast that took Yuuri wasn’t _anything_ what he suspected, or what it seemed,” he heard Viktor mutter after the arrow missed. He slowly dismounted his horse and tapped its side twice, and Yuuri recognized the signal for it to go back to the palace. “A swan in the middle of winter _definitely_ falls under strange.”

Viktor was already notching another arrow, and it flew over Yuuri’s head when he ducked. His face twisted with confusion as his gaze switched between the empty bow in his hand and the motionless swan in front of him. Yuuri’s breathing shallowed.

 _He doesn’t know it’s me!_ he realized, fear seizing his body.

“It dodged again,” Viktor murmured, his expression hardening. “It’s _human._ ”

And it was then that Yuuri knew he needed to get out of here.

Before he turned tail and flew away, Yuuri was able to see from his closer vantage point that Viktor looked _terrible_. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent (and not shadows from the trees like he’d thought before), his complexion was paler than usual, and his expression was so _cold_.

He looked _nothing_ like the Viktor who had given him that ring, or the Viktor that had kissed him so sweetly. Yuuri needed to hurry, or else he was going to be killed by the person who was trying to save him.

Yuuri flew faster than he’d ever practiced back at the lake, but Viktor still kept up with him easily even though he was only running. The sun was setting quickly, and Yuuri struggled to keep evading every arrow shot at him because it was getting too dark to see. Yuuri knew that Viktor was as excellent an archer as he was a skater, and so the odds of Yuuri dying by his hands would only increase the longer he stayed in his swan form.

The inky outline of Satou’s castle was soon imprinted on the nearby horizon. Yuuri urged his tired wings to carry him farther—to carry him _faster_ —to where the moonlight touched the lake. But then another arrow zipped by, grazing his right wing, and Yuuri screamed with pain. It escaped his beak as an agonized screech, but he had to keep going. He needed Viktor to _see._

“Over here!” he heard Yuri’s voice call, easily carrying through the air.

“Hurry!” Phichit screamed.

“You’re almost there!” Guang-hong shouted.

But Viktor was too close to the edge of the lake and clouds were beginning to hide the moon. If Yuuri went there now, he was going to _die_. He landed hesitantly on a rock outcropping, and winced when he moved his right wing too much. There was too much blood. He felt dizzy.

“Prince Yuuri, go!” he heard a voice suddenly whisper behind him. Yuuri turned and saw Keiichi there, looking determined, and his dark robes and hair blending in with the shadows.

“Keiichi?”

But he shook his head, his long hair shaking with the movement. “Go now,” he continued. “I’ve already told the others to cover you.”

Yuuri hesitated, then looked back at Viktor, who was gripping his bow and observing the lake. Even from here, he could see the uncertainty and despair etched on Viktor’s face, and it hurt too much to see him like that. Yuuri longed to kiss away the troubled wrinkles on his brow, to wrap his arms around his body, to tell him _I’m here, I’m here, stay close to me and never leave_.

And above them, ever so slowly, the clouds were beginning to clear. The thin, thin crescent moon appeared on the water, and Keiichi smiled reassuringly. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder at Viktor again, then made up his mind, nodding sharply.

He was afraid of dying, but he was afraid of losing Viktor even more.

Yuuri's wings fluttered as he descended, hot flashes of pain traveling all over the right side of his body, but he had to bear it. Viktor was _here_ and Yuuri wouldn’t waste the risk that Keiichi had taken by getting them the map. His body splashed in the water, and Yuuri swam forward to the where the moonlight reflected in the lake.

The shine of steel glinted in his eyes as Viktor aimed again, but Yuuri stared fearlessly into the face of death. He had faith in the others. Faith that everything would go well. Faith that he would soon be back in Viktor’s arms.

And then out of nowhere, Guang-hong sprang out of the bare bushes to tackle Viktor, Yuri followed to swipe at his ankle, and Phichit crawled up his leg. The distraction was enough to spare him a few precious seconds. And it worked.

The novelty of the spell had worn off after the first few nights in captivity, always leaving behind a vague feeling of loss because Yuuri knew he’d become a swan again as soon as the sun rose, but now? Everything was different. _So,_ so different.

The golden glow of magic flooded Yuuri’s body like it had done for the past two weeks, and the lake rose and swirled around him, completing the transformation. Through the veil of water, he glimpsed Viktor lowering his bow in shock, and tears of joy dripped down Yuuri’s cheeks, faster than he could wipe them away. He pressed his hands to his mouth. His plan worked. It was _working!_

When the water died down, he was human again. Yuuri was _himself_ again and standing on the edge of the lake, like it had been every night, but the feeling of emptiness and hopelessness was gone now. Because he was looking into Viktor’s beautiful, beautiful eyes, and the smile on his face was wider than it had ever been. His heart sang, knowing that it was almost home.

Viktor was still standing there, frozen, with shock written all over him, but when Yuuri spoke—

“Hello, Vitya.”

—Viktor dropped his bow, and the spell holding them in place broke. Yuuri wasn’t sure who moved first because suddenly they were running to each other, arms reaching for that familiar embrace, eyes seeking that love, and feet splashing water everywhere. Warmth surged in Yuuri’s body as they collided, and he cried and cried and cried.

“ _I_ _missed you,"_  he sobbed into Viktor’s chest, saying the words that he’d wanted to say for so long. And dimly, he realized he’d said the same exact thing the night before the conference. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, cupping Yuuri’s cheeks and kissing him fiercely. Their lips moved together as a conversation, a welcoming, a reassurance of _hello, I'm here, welcome home._ The loving press of Viktor’s mouth to his was scorching despite the icy magic that ran in his blood, and Yuuri wanted to both melt and drown in his touch, no matter how inconceivable it was.

When they broke apart, Viktor whispered, almost reverently, “Yuuri, you’re _here._ ”

Yuuri was too choked up with emotion to answer, so he simply _smiled_ at him instead. How had he never taken the moment to memorize every part of Viktor’s face and write it in his heart, keeping every whisper of love and warmth locked inside? More than ever, Yuuri yearned for freedom. He wanted to escape from this place forever and keep falling in love, keep laughing, and keep Viktor by his side.

“So are you,” he managed, his smile becoming wobbly as more tears flooded his eyes.

Viktor’s hands were still brushing all over Yuuri’s body, as if he was making sure that he was still real, before finally settling for holding Yuuri’s own. For once, his touch was warm.

“They told me you died, but I refused to believe them,” Viktor whispered, blue eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. His hair looked like stardust had been spun into it. “I _knew_ you were waiting for me, and I’m . . . I’m so sorry I took so long.”

Yuuri pulled his hands away from Viktor to wrap his arms around him. “But you’re here now,” he said firmly, his voice slightly muffled by Viktor’s shirt. He smelled like winter, sweat, and pine—something so undeniably _Viktor_ —and Yuuri hugged him closer. He could feel their hearts beating through their clothes in tandem. “And that’s what matters.”

Viktor smiled, his hands coming up to rest over Yuuri’s back, his fingers twisting into the fabric.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then Yuuri flinched as Viktor pulled a little too roughly, reminding him of the wound he sustained. “You’re still a very good shot, by the way,” he added almost jokingly, examining his bloody, ripped sleeve. “The arrow didn’t cut too deeply, so it should heal soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said again, though looking incredibly guilty this time. “I—I thought you were—”

“Only _you_ would mess up this badly, Vitya,” Yuri drawled from the shore, strutting proudly by the water.

“Yura, he didn’t mean it,” Yuuri chastised, looking over Viktor’s shoulder to smile at Yuri. “It’s not his fault.”

Viktor perked up and let go of Yuuri to turn around and face forward. “Yura? You’re safe!” Then his head tilted curiously as he took in the sight of him and the others. “And you’re a cat? Is everyone an animal?”

“I’d come over there, but I don't feel like getting wet anytime soon,” Yuri snarked, the smirk still obvious on his face even as a cat. “Or to interrupt your grossness.”

“I’ll hug you later,” Viktor promised, a cheeky smile on his face.

“You can understand him?” Yuuri asked, but Viktor shook his head, still smiling.

“I could only guess what he’s saying,” he chirped, looking much brighter at the sight of his brother. Their disappearances must’ve weighed heavily on him these past few weeks. “But I’ve lived with Yura long enough to figure it out.”

Phichit, Guang-hong, and Yuri were all gathered by the shore, looking incredibly self-satisfied. Then Yuuri remembered their “attack” on Viktor and began to laugh. They’d done that for _him._

Viktor reached out and held his hands again, laughter bubbling from his lips as well. “Why are you laughing?”

“Why are _you?”_

“I don’t know!”

Viktor then began peppering kisses all over Yuuri’s face, and Yuuri couldn’t stop giggling. Their foreheads clunked together gently and their laughter slowly faded, being replaced by tender smiles.

“You called me ‘Vitya,’” Viktor said, pure joy in his voice and expression.

“Was that okay?” Yuuri asked, feeling a little worried he used the affectionate diminutive too soon.

“ _More_ than okay,” he assured. Then his smile became impossibly more loving. “My soulmate should be allowed to call me whatever he wants.”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. “You mean—”

“Yours manifested,” Viktor whispered, and tears sprang in Yuuri’s eyes. "We match now."

Yuuri drank in Viktor’s appearance, wishing and wanting to never be separated from him again. It was a scary thought to be that dependent on someone else, relying on that person to make you feel like the best possible self you can be, but Yuuri knew. Their care for each other—their love—was something infinitely more than just mismatching soulmarks. They had found each other without them, and the fact that their marks were the same now only proved how much they belonged together.

“Yuuri?” Viktor said softly, still smiling.

“Yeah?” he said back.

“I lo—"

But Viktor never got the chance to finish what he was saying before the ones at the lakeshore began to shout warnings. Viktor looked at them, uncomprehending, but Yuuri froze, feeling that unnerving rush of magic coming closer and closer.

Announcing _his_ arrival.

So without warning, Yuuri let go of Viktor and tried to shove him away, panic building inside him. Viktor had to leave. Quickly.

But he was stubborn and reached up to hold Yuuri's wrists in place, looking confused.

“Yuuri? What’s happening?”

Yuuri barely heard him though as he tried to squirm out of Viktor’s hold. It was too soon. Not yet. They’d just found each other, but he couldn’t be selfish. He _knew_ what would happen if Satou saw Viktor here.

With his hands still on Viktor's shoulders, Yuuri’s words tumbled over each other in the rush to get out as he said, “Everyone's safe, but you need to go. _Now._ ”

Viktor’s expression dissolved into hurt, but there was no time for further explanations.

“No, I’m never letting you go again!” Viktor protested, not understanding. His grip only tightened around Yuuri’s hands. “You and everyone else have to come back with me. _Please._ ”

Yuuri shook his head, still pushing him away from the lake even if their fingers were still intertwined. “I _can’t._ I’ll only become a swan again once the moonlight leaves the lake. That’s how the curse works,” Yuuri said, lowering his voice as he pushed Viktor away again. “And the rest will stay as animals until it’s broken. _Please_ trust me, Viktor, the man who took us is coming back and he can’t see you here. He’ll kill you, or try to take your magic too!”

“How do I break the curse?” Viktor asked, his hands still linked with Yuuri’s even after Yuuri used enough force for him to nearly fall over. “Is that why you have that collar around your neck?”

“A soulmate’s love, and yes,” Yuuri said, hating how cryptic the words were. Even if it was an accident when Satou told him, he was wise enough to withhold the rest of the information just in case. “I was told it was enough to break any spell, but I don’t know how it works.”

“I’d tell you a thousand times over if you could come back home,” Viktor said, his expression so openly earnest that Yuuri wanted to cry.

But Yuuri tried to untangle their fingers instead, the exact opposite of what he wanted to do, and his heart splintered with each loss of contact. “You have to prove it to the world!”

“Always, Yuuri,” Viktor promised, leaning forward and kissing him again. “There’s a ball tomorrow night. For my birthday. Come to the castle, and I’ll break the curse for _everyone_ to see.”

“I . . . I’ll try.” Then Yuuri thought better of it and surged forward to hug Viktor tightly. “No. I _am._ I’ll come home soon. We all will. I promise."

Phichit, Guang-hong, and Yuri all came up to Viktor and shoved him away again, breaking Yuuri’s hold on him. But then Viktor pressed something into Yuuri’s hands and gently kissed his ear.

And then he was gone, and Satou was there, striding angrily towards Yuuri. A menacing aura was surrounding his form—something that even a non-magical person would be able to detect because of its strength. Yuuri's stomach twisted with fear, the previous warmth in his heart being snuffed out almost immiedately.

“I caught Keiichi stealing something last night,” he said, close enough that Yuuri had to step back. His shoulders slammed against a tree trunk. “It was for _you,_ wasn’t it? You can’t hide anything from me.”

“No, no, I—” Yuuri tried to say, but Satou gripped his arm. His injured arm. Yuuri cried out in pain, and involuntarily released what Viktor had given him. It dropped to the ground. _No!_ he screamed in his mind, because only pained gasps were able to escape his mouth as Satou brutally dug his fingers into the arrow wound.

“You tried to escape. You tried to turn my own son against me.”

It was a pain that Yuuri had never experienced before. It was sharp and blinding, and tears cut through the dust on his face as he sank to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. "Please let go," he begged, his left hand scrabbling helplessly at Satou's iron grip on his forearm. " _Please."_

" _Yuri, no!"_

Then there was a flash of white as Yuri suddenly ran in, roaring, "Let go of him, you fucker!" Yuri leaped up and scratched and bit at Satou, much more aggressively than he did to Viktor, and Yuuri could only let out a shuddery breath at the relief of finally being freed from his grasp. Yuri nimbly avoided Satou's hands, but the sorcerer eventually caught him. Then he threw the small kitten off of his arm, and Yuri flew in the air and landed on his side with a solid _thump_ before rolling a few feet away.

And he didn't move.

It was silent, save for Satou and Yuuri's ragged breathing. But Yuuri couldn't speak even if he wanted to, his widened eyes trained solely on the unmoving body of the boy he called _otouto_ in his mind.

Then Satou leaned down and scooped up the object that Yuuri had previously dropped, and Yuuri only caught a glimpse of shining gold before it disappeared into the blackness of Satou's robes. _His ring._

"You're lucky Plisetsky was here," Satou sneered, straightening up to his full height. "At least _he_ did something useful and saved Nikiforov from getting killed for at least a day."

Yuuri was still on his knees, so he scrambled away from Satou and to Yuri. He picked up the kitten and held him to his chest, and felt warm tears pooling in his eyes when he felt a faint heartbeat against his skin. Yuri was still alive. He'd be okay. But why couldn't Yuuri  _breathe?_

“Just _try_ to get to your tsesarevich’s ball tomorrow night,” Satou then growled, his eyes full of dark fire. “You are _never_ leaving this place until every last drop of magic is out of your corpse!”

Yuuri curled up into a ball and closed his eyes, every last bit of comfort and safety that Viktor had left behind draining away because the fear. He wrapped his arms even tighter around Yuri, swearing to protect him no matter what. Then he heard quick, quiet footsteps as Phichit and Guang-hong rushed to his side.

 _“Just try, Yuuri-ouji,”_ Satou taunted again, utter disrespect in the honorific. “How is your beloved Viktor going to proclaim his love to a _swan_ tomorrow when there’s—” He laughed then, a truly sickening sound. “When there’s—no—moon?”

Then Yuuri remembered the scraps of silvery moonlight on the lake, barely enough to absorb the snowy feathers from his body to make him human again. And he knew that tomorrow, during the ball, the night would be plunged into darkness.

Satou laughed again.

Yuuri sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE ART BY @little-burnt-marshmallow IS RIGHT [HERE](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/post/162337216206/little-burnt-marshmallow-postingpebbles) OF YUURI IN HIS SWAN FORM!!!!!! Please go show it and the artist some love! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ
> 
> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. Things went slightly differently from the movie during the pre-reunion scene—there was no one else to distract Viktor, and he's a very good archer, so of course he'd get a hit on poor Yuuri. He's not badly hurt, though. It'll just be a little sore in the next few days. (But what will the next few days mean for them????)
> 
> 2\. Their reunion scene was my favorite part to write. Like, it made me so happy to write out Yuuri's own happiness, and their soft kisses and hugs and hand-holding because they were separated for so long that they can't get enough of each other. 
> 
> 3\. ~~dammit Satou, why you gotta be so awful? Can't you be slightly more sane and not hurt Yuuri when he's already injured? Or even Yuri? What the heck?????~~ Also known as: More Angst™
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter will be an interlude, and since they're short that means the chapter after that will come a little sooner than usual. I also got my laptop back, so that's v exciting. Let me know what you thought below (ha I rhymed) in the comments, and see you next time!! :)


	12. Interlude II: The Black Swan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yikes I meant to have this out sooner, but I've been working on another YOI story! It's a Viktuuri one-shot set in an AU, and I'll be sure to link it once it's up :)
> 
> Please enjoy!

“You _stupid_ boy,” Satou growled, dragging his son out of his room harshly by the arm. It was too late at night to be this angry, but he'd used too much magic to force Yuuri into unconsciousness before dropping him into a cell, and he was feeling irritable from the feeling of weakness and the near-escape. “I've been too lenient with you.”

“F-Father, I’m sorry—”

“ _Lies,_ ” he hissed, letting go of Keiichi’s arm and jabbing his finger into his chest. “You're too trusting—too _soft._ Did you think that your Prince Yuuri was telling you the truth? That _he_ could care for you better than your own _father?”_

Silent tears were already dripping down Keiichi’s face (smart boy—he'd learned not to make noise), and Satou resisted the urge to do anything he’d regret. He needed to remain in control.

Then he sighed, holding his arms out.

“Come here, Keiichi.”

“Fath—”

“Come _here._ ”

Then Keiichi, that stupidly naive boy, dutifully came forward. Satou hesitantly hugged his son, trying to ignore the revulsion building within him. The feeling of another warm body against his own was foreign.

Disgusting.

Why’d he even steal this boy if he hated children?

“Don’t let me catch you disobeying me again, Keiichi,” Satou warned, gingerly running his hand through the long, soft hair, in what he hoped felt like a comforting gesture.

“Yes, Father.”

Ah. Yes. That was it. He needed someone to control if the plan ever fell through. Satou had spent too much time just to give up now.

And a few spells later (he had just enough left for a short practice run), a perfect carbon copy of Katsuki Yuuri stood in front of him, wearing a black version of the prince's blue yukata. Before, Satou had quickly imbued a dark powder with a small mind-control spell just in case Keiichi became too rebellious, but he slipped it into his pocket when he figured it wouldn't be necessary. Because Keiichi—unsurprisingly—had been willing to make up for everything, and quietly agreed to attend the Russian heir’s ball in place of the real prince. And since he had later divulged that Viktor Nikiforov was Yuuri’s soulmate, that just made everything so much easier.

Yuuri's magic was nearly consumed anyway, and when it was gone from his body the added shock of a broken Soulbond would probably end up killing him.

Because if Viktor . . . say, accidentally made his vow to Keiichi instead of Yuuri—well, then maybe Satou wouldn’t _need_ to use the soul magic to take over the kingdom.

He’d have a puppet that could do it just as easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. I needed a chapter explaining how the Black Swan came into being, so I made it into an interlude. For those who aren't familiar with the _Swan Lake_ story, the Black Swan is Odile, von Rothbart's daughter, who masquerades as Odette and tricks Siegfried into confessing his love to another. So if you want to draw the parallels . . .
> 
> 2\. This chapter also gives a little glimpse into the dynamics between Satou and Keiichi. Keiichi's become a little more daring in Yuuri's company, but he falls back into a quietly obedient and slightly fearful state when Satou's around, _especially_ when he's angry. Two weeks of love isn't enough to make up for sixteen years of fear. Satou's also incredibly manipulative, and he _knows_ it. He occasionally treats Keiichi with kindness to lower his guard and make him more malleable to what he wants, which is his typical behavior. And it's implied above, but _Keiichi isn't actually Satou's biological son,_ but no one knows that. (There's probably been a grieving family somewhere in Hasetsu missing their baby boy.)
> 
> 3\. There's much more to Satou's plan than anyone knows . . . this can't be good for anyone involved.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter should be up in a few days!! Please let me know what you thought. :)


	13. Distant Hands

Viktor ran the entire way back home, his heart singing.

He left behind icy spirals with each step, but for once Viktor didn’t care about the possibility of someone discovering his magic because everybody was _alive._

There was still that tiny worry about the sorcerer niggling at the back of Viktor’s mind, though. He remembered the unadulterated _fear_ that had filled Yuuri’s lovely brown eyes when they felt that threatening magical aura, and cursed himself again for leaving when Yuuri clearly needed him.

But Yuuri had asked Viktor to trust him, so that was what he was going to do.

He was on the road leading to St. Petersburg now. Viktor was almost home.

His quiver of arrows was pounding against his back as he ran (he’d left his bow back at the lake, but there was no point in going back for it now), and his shin and side ached from where he’d been attacked by the cursed royals. Viktor could never be upset about it since what they did had prevented him from making a mistake he’d never be able to undo—though he’d tell Yuri to cut his nails once the spell was broken—since he’d almost _killed_ Yuuri because he was too blinded by anguish.

Then Viktor nearly tripped over a tree root when he thought about what would happen if he actually succeeded.

He remembered the flash of pain that had passed over Yuuri’s face when he’d aggravated the arrow wound, and felt another stab of guilt in his stomach. But he’d missed, he reminded himself. Yuuri was alive, and he was coming tomorrow night for the ball.

Yuuri would be okay. He had to.

And when he was finally inside the palace, the first thing he did was find his mother.

Chris’s words were still ringing around in Viktor’s head, and he made up his mind to go apologize to her. He’d been nothing short of an awful son, and a terrible heir by ignoring all of his duties when searching the forests, and he needed to make up for that.

It was late, but Viktor knew that his mother would still be awake. She hadn’t been able to sleep that well since everyone had been taken.

He knocked gently on her bedroom door. “Mama?” he called. “It’s Viktor. May I come in?”

“You don’t have to knock, Vitya,” he heard her say back, and he smiled as he pushed open the door.

“It wouldn’t do to catch the tsarina in some state of indecency,” he teased, pulling off his quiver and sitting down at the side of her bed. His mother was lying under the covers with a book at her side. The candle in the lantern looked fresh. How long had she been planning to stay up?

“You look happier,” she noted, reaching out to hold his hand.

“I feel happier,” he admitted, feeling the light pressure of her grip. He’d found everyone who was missing, Yuuri was coming to the ball tomorrow night—soon his family would be back together again.

“Did you hear about Christophe’s engagement, then?” Mama asked, the pad of her thumb absently rubbing against the back of Viktor’s hand.

“. . . I did,” he said, still feeling that sting of regret after their fight. He’d have to find Chris and apologize to him as well. And speaking of . . . “Mama, I’m sorry,” he blurted.

She looked startled. “For what?”

“For being a terrible son,” Viktor confessed, feeling a slight burn behind his eyes. “For leaving you to run the kingdom alone when I should’ve been helping. I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes softened. “Oh, Vitya . . . I know losing your brother and your soulmate has been hard on you. It’s been hard on me too. But people grieve in their own ways. You just needed some time to accept that they’re gone, and I’m sure you’ll find a lovely young man or lady tomorrow night. It’s what Yuuri would want.”

 _But they aren’t gone!_ is what Viktor wanted to scream, but didn’t. Instead, he reached down and wrapped his arms around his mother. He needed to calm down, and not be angry with what she didn’t know. She didn’t understand.

“I love you,” he told her, voice muffled by her hair.

“I love you, too,” she said. Then she pushed him away, her nose wrinkling. “You smell disgusting,” she informed him.

Then Viktor realized that he’d just hugged his mother after running around for hours in the woods, and probably smelled like death warmed over. He grinned. “Why, don’t you like it?”

“No!” she said sternly, fending him off, but there was a hint of a smile about her features. “Vitya, come back and hug me when you _don’t_ smell like the outside! Please go to the baths and clean off that off.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh as well as he stumbled backwards and tripped over his feet. “I will. Don’t worry.”

 

* * *

 

And before Viktor knew it, the following night had arrived, and the ball was . . . extravagant, to put it lightly.

Viktor had honestly been against it ever since the attack two weeks ago, arguing that _there shouldn’t even_ be _one; there are_ people _missing!_ But his mother stood firm, saying that they needed to preserve some sense of normalcy for the ones attending. They could grieve, but a grieving kingdom meant a weakened kingdom, and Nadia couldn’t have that.

So the ball was still set for December twenty-fifth, as it was every year.

Everyone had been hard at work to make the ballroom shine, and the cooks had been in the kitchen for a week to prepare all the food. Viktor had received countless presents since this morning from those who were not attending the party tonight, and his hand was ready to fall off after writing all of those thank-you letters.

His mother’s gift made him smile, though—and wince a little, honestly. Viktor reached up and tentatively probed his ear, then swore softly as a sharp pain flashed through it. It was custom for the new ruler have their ear pierced with a blue diamond once they ascended the throne, but Viktor had received his early. Once the new year passed, Nadia Nikiforova would step down, and Viktor would become tsar.

There were a fair amount of guests milling about the ballroom already, their plates piled high with food before they danced. The conference had been a little too close in date to Viktor’s birthday, so not every international kingdom would be returning because of the travel time. He also knew that they were quietly concerned about the recent kidnappings, afraid that the same would happen to them.

But there were still a few who chose to attend.

Save for Chris representing Switzerland, Italy and the Czech Republic were the only international guests. But Chris had been strangely absent since yesterday, and Viktor knew the most likely reason why. Their fight had been ugly, and they both just needed some time to cool off. Maybe he was in St. Petersburg, staying with Masumi in his apartment above the bakery. Viktor would apologize again and more fully if— _when,_ he corrected himself—he came back.

As of today, Viktor was twenty-eight years old. His new piercing was a reminder of that his mother had been pushing for him to find someone for when he finally took the throne, and was most likely a not-so-subtle attempt to make him get over Yuuri.

It was a little hurtful, honestly. He loved his mother, but the grief of losing both her son and her honorary one was driving a once stately, calm-minded ruler to make impulsive decisions. Viktor had held off on telling her that they were actually alive, but cursed and kept prisoner by a sorcerer, because he was afraid that the information alone would send her into shock.

But even if Yuuri _was_ gone, Viktor didn’t think he’d ever be able to find someone like him. He was brighter than the sun, just as brilliant and beautiful, and his quiet courage was incredible. Yuuri, with a single touch, could unravel Viktor from the outside in, and his smile could end wars. He was his soulmate, but that wasn’t everything he was. He was so much more.

Viktor hoped he’d see him tonight so he could show _everyone_ how much Katsuki Yuuri meant to him.

He was standing by his mother at the front of the ballroom, dressed in a new outfit, tailor-made out of the finest fabric for the tsesarevich of Russia. The birthday ball was one of the few occasions of the year where commonfolk and nobles (both local and from far off) alike were able to intermingle, for shared celebration of their heir.

It was normally a fun time for Viktor, a time where he could let loose and dance with anybody he’d like to, but his eyes kept straying to the open doors. Stragglers were still coming in, though the number had lessened as the hours passed. But still Yuuri was nowhere to be found.

Was he safe? Did he manage to find his way here okay?

“Go interact with our guests, Vitya,” his mother said reproachfully. “The ladies would appreciate a dance from you. It’s good etiquette.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” he admitted. “They haven’t shown up yet.”

His mother smiled and for the first time in a while, her blue eyes filled with happiness. “Oh! Well, until then, please see to our guests.”

Viktor laughed. “Yes, Mama.”

So Viktor stepped down and made his way through the sea of frills and lace and perfume, to where one Sara Crispino was sitting at the outskirts of the dance floor. She looked a little lost, uncharacteristic of her, and Viktor could safely assume that Yuuri’s disappearance was the root of the problem.

Mila had to don her professional clothes for tonight because it was such a large-scale event (Takeshi’s father had also graciously offered to stand guard as well), and Michele and Emil apparently had been sent away by Sara only a few moments before Viktor approached her. So there was no one to keep her company, and it didn’t seem as if she wanted any.

But Viktor knew what it was like to make impulsive decisions and regret them, and he didn’t want her to fall into that same feeling of loneliness and despair.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” Viktor asked, lightly tapping Sara’s shoulder.

“Viktor?” she asked, looking surprised. Then she cleared her throat and smoothed her red gown, remembering herself. “Yes. Of course,” she said, lifting her hand.

Viktor bowed and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Thank you.” He brought her to the center of the ballroom, and then they began to dance.

“How are you feeling?” Sara asked.

“I should be asking _you_ that,” he said back, smiling wryly. “You didn’t look very happy back there.”

“Was I that obvious?” she teased, a small glimmer back in her expression. Then her face became a little rueful. “I’m sad, I guess. Yuuri didn’t deserve this. Or your brother. Or anyone else. It’s awful.”

“I know,” Viktor agreed, letting muscle memory guide him through the steps of the dance. “I’ve been searching since they all went missing. Chris has been helping me.”

“Giacometti?” And at Viktor’s nod, she raised her chin and began looking around. “Where is he?”

“I—I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We fought a bit yesterday, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Then . . . thank you for telling me,” she said. “I know it’s been harder for you than it has been for me. Your brother and your beloved—let me know if you need anything, all right? I know we’re not that close, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

“Thank you Sara,” Viktor said, trying to sound as sincere as he could. “It means a lot.”

The song ended and Sara and Viktor both excused themselves, with a curtsy and bow respectively. She went to join her brother, while Viktor wandered aimlessly through the throng of people. He accepted dances when asked, but otherwise let his mind drift to thoughts of Yuuri. When would he get here? _Would_ he even get here?

Viktor valued Yuuri’s safety above all else, and would feel awful if anything happened to Yuuri because of his actions, so he hoped that his love would arrive without trouble.

The doors were closed now, barring anyone from getting in without invitation. Yuuri definitely _didn’t_ have one, but everyone knew the face of the missing foreign prince. And Viktor wouldn’t let anyone keep him from entering.

Then there was a sharp knock on the door, cutting through the music and leaving behind an impenetrable silence.

 

* * *

 

The stars that night twinkled cheerfully, shining beautifully amidst the inky sky.

They taunted Yuuri, telling him, _Look, but you can’t get free. Viktor will be punished for your selfishness—what made you think you could have happiness?_

Yuuri was stuck in a tower somewhere in Satou’s palace, with metal bars too thick to break covering the single window in the cell. Polished stones, stuck together with dried mortar, made up the three walls of his prison, with a similar material from the window making up the door.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been stuck there, but just that right after Viktor left, Satou had somehow managed to pull Yuri away from him and transport him into this tiny room. He felt anxious about Yuri’s well-being, and not being able to see if he was fine made him worry. Yuuri knew that he was alive, but okay was a different matter altogether.

And even Keiichi was nowhere to be seen. He was scared of what would happen to him because of Yuuri’s poor planning and stupid ideas.

“Let go of me!” a voice suddenly shouted, and Yuuri startled as the sound of struggling came closer. The torchlight illuminated the face of a tall man, being restrained by someone much shorter.

It couldn’t be. Chris? What was _he_ doing here?

“Please don’t resist,” said another voice, sounding monotone, and Yuuri’s heart clenched in his chest when he recognized it as well.

 _“I’ve always been pretty strong,”_ Yuuri remembered him saying as they danced. And it seemed that he was putting that strength to a not-so-good use.

“Keiichi?” he called. “What’s happening?”

“I’m sorry, Prince Yuuri,” Keiichi said, his voice still worryingly flat as he shoved Chris into the cell across from Yuuri’s. There was a click as the key twisted into the lock, and then a loud bang that made the bars rattle as Chris tried to break free by slamming himself against the door. “Father knows.”

“Yuuri?” Chris asked, his hands wrapped around the metal bars. His gaze was piercing. “Is that you?”

But Yuuri ignored him, trying to meet Keiichi’s eyes. There was something missing in the other’s gaze, a blankness that sent chills down Yuuri’s spine, telling him that he’d missed too much in the time he’d been unconscious. “Keiichi—Keiichi, no,” Yuuri tried to console, stretching his wing through the spaces between the metal bars in the door. “It’s not your fault. Are you okay?”

At that, something small and vulnerable shone through Keiichi’s expression. He slowly, hesitantly, curled his fingers around Yuuri’s wing, but then was ripped away when Satou suddenly appeared and pulled him back by the collar of his shirt. Then he heard a small cry of pain, and Yuuri screamed, “No! Don’t hurt him!”

“What are you doing to him?” Chris yelled, rattling the bars on the door, but it seemed that Satou was impervious to their shouts.

“What did I tell you?” Satou growled, and Keiichi shrunk inwards, like he was shielding himself from the words. It wasn’t physical punishment, but Keiichi was still acting like there was still something that could hurt him.

“To bring the prisoner,” he whispered, eyes darting to Yuuri’s.

“And what did you do?”

“I . . . I talked to Prince Yuuri.”

Then Satou’s next words and actions were terrifyingly gentle. He hugged Keiichi close and said, “You _know_ how important this is to me. Years of work would be wasted if you let the spell be broken too soon.”

Confusion etched itself on Keiichi’s features, his expression a little lost. “You—you mean we’ll let him go?”

“Of course,” Satou soothed, running his hand through his son’s long hair. Then he blew a dark powder over him, and Keiichi’s knees buckled before Satou steadied him. Yuuri’s eyes widened. What did he _do?_ “We won’t need him anymore.”

“We won’t . . . need him,” Keiichi echoed distantly, his eyes even blanker. They looked almost _empty_ in the eerie lighting of the stars.

“Keiichi . . .” Yuuri whispered, horrified. “No. No, don’t listen to him! He’s lying to you!”

“Now, why would I lie to my son, Prince Yuuri?” Satou asked, having the nerve to appear hurt by what Yuuri said. “Only _monsters_ do, right? And you fed him lies about how evil I was and how you’d ‘rescue’ him from me. What kind of person turns family against each other?”

“What? No! I didn’t do that!”

“You _did,_ ” Satou said sadly, folding his body protectively around Keiichi’s. And Yuuri knew this was how Keiichi didn’t even realize that what his father was doing was wrong. Satou’s words were like spun sugar, silky and inviting, making them so effortless for a child to believe. It was too easy to swallow the poison hidden inside every syllable. “Now, I’m taking my son and we’re leaving for the ball tonight.”

The ball? Why would they be going there?

As Yuuri glared at him, he glimpsed something small falling from Keiichi’s now-limp hand, but no one else seemed to notice.

“Now don’t give me that look, Yuuri,” Satou warned, dark magic crackling at his fingertips. “None of this would have happened if you didn’t drag your weakling prince into it. Now _he’ll_ have to suffer because of your mistake.”

Yuuri knew better than to believe that, but a small part of him—the weaker, anxious part—twisted inside with fear. He shook his head to clear it. And then his eyes met Keiichi’s.

“Keiichi,” Yuuri said again, desperately trying to reach him, “don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Dark eyes stared at him blankly, and Yuuri fell silent. Anger bubbled up within him, but there was nothing he could _do._

When they were gone, Chris spoke again, his voice quiet. “That isn’t a way to treat a child. You’ve been looking out for him, haven’t you, Yuuri?”

Then Yuuri nodded wearily, feeling frustrated when his mouth wouldn’t move into a smile like he wanted it to. And Chris wouldn’t understand him anyway.

But his face broke into a relieved smile. “So it _is_ you. I wasn't sure. Viktor’s been looking for you ever since you were kidnapped,” he continued, sitting criss-cross by the bars. He shivered when a cold breeze blew through the tower. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“As okay as I’ll ever be,” Yuuri said, plopping onto the ground. Then he noticed the slight gleam of something silver. He’d almost forgotten about what Keiichi had dropped. When he craned his neck to catch a better look, he jumped up, wide-eyed.

It was a _key._

Chris had stopped talking, realizing that Yuuri couldn’t communicate with him effectively, but lifted his head when he noticed Yuuri flapping his wings excitedly.

“What are you doing— _oh._ ” A grin had spread across Chris’s face when his gaze dropped to the floor. “Still clever as always.”

Yuuri was beating his wings to try to push the tiny key away from him, and closer to Chris’s reach so he could free them. Thank _goodness_ it was a lighter object because the movement made his injured wing ache, but he had to push through. He had to count on the idea that there was only one key for every cell, though, and hope that Satou didn’t spend too much time and energy into crafting individual locks.

Chris stretched his arm out, his fingers shaking slightly, and made a triumphant noise when they clenched around the tiny key. “Yuuri, you’re a genius.”

“I do what I can,” he said, but then Chris laughed.

“I really have no idea what you’re saying,” he said as he stuffed the key into the lock on his cell door. The lock then fell to the floor and Yuuri wiggled with expectation. _Keiichi—thank you!_ He wasn’t sure if dropping the key was intentional or not, but even so, thanks to him—they’d gotten out.

Soon, Yuuri was freed as well, and the two hurried (Chris skipping steps, Yuuri flying) down the tower. His body felt strangely weak and sluggish as they burst out of the door at the bottom and into the crisp night air, and he heard Chris make a sound of surprise before he took another step forward.

“Ah, _je suis désolé,_ _mes petits_ ,” Chris said, kneeling down. “I didn’t see you there.”

Yuuri landed next to him and his eyes widened when he saw the animals nearly hidden in the browned grass. “What are you guys doing here?” he asked, trying to sound stern even though he couldn’t keep the joy out of his voice. Then he gazed around anxiously when he remembered. “Where’s Yura?”

A small white paw waved from behind the longer blades of grass. “Here.”

“Are you okay?” Yuuri worried, coming closer, but Yuri lazily strolled into his view, grinning.

“Satou couldn’t hurt me,” Yuri said proudly. “I’m fine.”

“And to answer your previous question, we’re rescuing you,” Guang-hong said, with Phichit beaming from his perch on top of his head again. “Even if it doesn’t look like you’ll need it any longer.”

But Yuuri enveloped them all in his wings and laughed wetly. “I appreciate it, though. Thank you. It means a lot.”

Then Phichit suddenly urged, alarm in his voice, “Yuuri, there’s no time—you need to go St. Petersburg  _now._ Satou’s planning something awful, and you have to go and stop it.”

Yuuri gasped. “You’re right, I need to go!”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Katsudon,” Yuri added, looking him straight in the eyes. The limp had been barely noticeable when he'd walked forward before, and Yuuri knew what he was thinking. “I don’t want to lose any part of my family again.”

Yuuri’s heart swelled with affection. “In and out,” he promised. “Even if I won’t be human—well, Viktor will still recognize me.”

“Yuuri, what—” Chris said, picking up on the tense atmosphere even if he couldn't understand what was happening, but he fell silent at the stern look the four gave him. He was still crouching in the same spot, looking terribly confused, but the others were right. Yuuri needed to go. So he gave Chris an apologetic look, told the others to explain everything the best they could even with the language barrier, then launched himself into the sky.

His right wing strained with the effort, but he needed to hurry.

 

* * *

 

It was still completely silent as Georgi hurried up the stairs to get the door, trying to look as dignified as one could while the eyes of thousands were upon him. But Viktor felt a smile forming on his face. Not because of Georgi’s misfortune of being the one to open the door, but because there was no one else that the person at the door could be.

He could hear his mother talking quietly with Yakov, Lilia, and his grandfather to the side where the musicians were, whispering, “Who could it be? Everyone with invitations is here, and the townspeople _know_ they can’t enter the ball late.”

But Viktor knew.

Georgi’s gasp of surprise was audible in the silence as he pulled the heavy doors open, and shocked whispers sprang to life at the sight of the person in the doorway.

The _man_ in the doorway.

He was dressed in a different outfit tonight. Instead of wearing the deep blue robe that he’d been wearing last night (a yukata?), he was garbed in a luxurious, silken kimono that dragged behind him as he walked. Shining crystals traveled up the right side of his chest, accentuating the darkness of the material, and when the fabric swished at his ankles, it revealed that the underside was blood-red.

 _“Who is he?”_ his mother urged Yakov, who responded with, “I can’t quite say . . . though he does look a great deal like—”

“One of my most brilliant students,” Lilia finished quietly, her gaze piercing and intent as she stared at the newcomer.

“It couldn’t be!” Mama said, her hand at her mouth. His grandfather placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

But Viktor only had eyes for the man walking toward him. His dark hair was pushed away from his face, his glasses were missing, showing the brightness of his eyes (made even brighter by the black liner around them), and there was an unusually confident strut in his step as he went straight for Viktor. His glossy pink lips were quirked slightly upwards, as if he was laughing at a joke only he could hear.

Simply put, he looked _breathtaking._

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, a helpless smile on his face. “I was so worried, I—”

But then Yuuri looped his arms around Viktor’s neck, cutting off whatever he was going to say. His familiar scent, sweet and intoxicating, washed over him, and Viktor nearly whimpered. And Yuuri surprised him even further by standing on his toes and whispering into his ear, warm and sultry, “Nothing could keep me away.”

Oh. This . . . this was different. But Viktor shivered pleasantly. This was a side to Yuuri he rarely got to see, except for when he was performing in a show under Lilia or Minako. His _Eros_ side, Viktor liked to call it. Confident and sexy and attractive, but still so undeniably _Yuuri._

And seeing the normally-hidden golden flecks in Yuuri’s already beautiful brown eyes, the smile on his face, and feeling Yuuri’s warm body pressed against his own even through the thick fabric of their clothing—was it possible for someone to fall even more in love? Well, it was now. Because Viktor just did.

“I’m just so happy you’re here,” he said, tripping over his words, but then Yuuri pressed a light finger to Viktor’s lips.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me,” Yuuri said quietly, giving Viktor the chain that held his ring. Without prompting, Viktor fastened the clasp around Yuuri’s neck. “I want to forget everything . . . at least for one night.”

“Yeah,” Viktor agreed, trying not to sound too eager as he nodded. “I can do that.”

Then they were dancing, and it was wonderful—it was everything that Viktor _dreamed_ of, having the love of his life back in his arms again. And even though their steps were slightly out of sync, Viktor chalked it up to Yuuri’s injury, or maybe that his time away had weakened him. Thinking about it, he couldn’t help but worry.

“How’s your arm?” he remembered, moving to fold back the long, silky fabric of the kimono sleeve, but Yuuri pulled away and smiled apologetically.

“Still hurts a bit,” he said. “But I’m okay.” Yuuri smiled at him again, a pretty pink blush dusted on his cheeks from exertion, and Viktor’s concern was chased away as he smiled back, wondering if this was what paradise felt like. If it was, he never wanted to leave.

. . . But something still seemed off.

Besides his unusually offbeat dancing, Yuuri’s eyes seemed to lack their usual spark—Viktor couldn’t explain it, maybe it was due to his captivity—and Viktor hugged Yuuri close to forget. It was only them on the ballroom floor tonight, no one would take his love away from him again, and the warmth of Yuuri’s body against his own comforted him.

Yuuri was here, he was safe, and the curse would be broken. Viktor would prove his love for this man, and _everything_ would be perfect. They’d be together far, _far_ longer than forever.

Then seeing the soft look in Yuuri’s eyes gave Viktor the courage to announce aloud, his voice strong:

“Please stop the music! I have something to say.”

And when Yuuri flushed happily and squeezed Viktor’s hand as a small smile bloomed on his face, it distracted him thoroughly from the white swan appearing at each window, desperately trying to get in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings (and a few links):
> 
> 1\. Viktor and Nadia normally have a very good relationship with each other, but as Nadia mentioned earlier, people have different ways of dealing with grief. While Viktor doesn't let go of the problem and stubbornly keeps trying to solve it, Nadia pretends it never happened and bottles everything up inside. Both aren't very healthy coping mechanisms, but there's no one to realize that.
> 
> 2\. For a visual reference, I modeled Yuuri and Chris's cells from the live-action of Beauty and the Beast! I'm a little uncreative with setting, as you can tell haha.
> 
> 3\. Anyone remember the powder from the last interlude? Yup. It made an appearance.
> 
> 4\. Viktor knows Yuuri well, and so of course he's going to notice that something's off. But he's blinded by happiness and he's making too many excuses about exactly _why_ "Yuuri" is acting weird. Also, Yuuri's hecka gorgeous in any form, and Eros mode could slay anyone. (Also while I was writing the descriptions for the Eros!kimono, I realized it would look really similar to Odette's dress in the movie?? Wild.)
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
>  _je suis désolé, mes petits:_ I'm sorry, my little ones
> 
>  
> 
> Now for some shameless self-promotion!! :)
> 
> If you're looking for some healing fluff after all this hurt, please check out a oneshot I published a few days ago called _[a lesson in opening up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11453289)._ It's set in an AU that has a meet cute with Viktor and Yuuri, and I had a lot of fun writing it. :)
> 
> And if you want to see a snippet I wrote of Yuri's thoughts during Ch. 11 before he jumped in to help Yuuri, check it out [here](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/post/162824354171/pov)!
> 
>  
> 
> So updates may slow down a bit during the next few weeks because it's been a little difficult to write the next chapter, and I'll also be going on vacation next week! Hopefully I can get Ch. 14 up before I leave, but if not I'll try to see if I can still update while I'm away.
> 
> Let me know what you thought, and I'll see you next time!! :)


	14. Farewell

Yuuri suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Despair gripped his throat, his body shook, and his heart beat unsteadily in his chest. Yuuri’s breaths were stuck in his lungs, air unable to get in or out. He couldn’t believe it. This _couldn’t_ be happening.

Because in the ballroom, a stranger hung off of Viktor’s arm and wore Yuuri’s face like a mask.

No matter how much Yuuri tried to tell himself that he was imagining things, the sight of seeing another “Yuuri” with Viktor didn’t change. His world seemed to tilt on its axis as he watched the two of them, as if he were a ghost looking into the remnants of his past life. As if Yuuri had never really been _Yuuri_ at all.

Then his other self suddenly smiled at Viktor as they danced together, and Viktor smiled back. Though Yuuri couldn’t clearly see his face from here, he could easily imagine what he looked like, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his gaze full of love and adoration. Yuuri desperately wished that he was there, being shielded once again in Viktor’s soft embrace, and pain shot through Yuuri’s chest at the thought, his heart twisting with hurt and longing.

Because he wasn’t there. He _wasn’t._

Yuuri suddenly felt a wave of fear crawling up his throat, threatening to choke him. So _this_ was Satou’s plan? To make Viktor think that the person in his arms was him? He couldn’t figure out what the point of all this was, but knowing Satou, Yuuri couldn’t help but think that something awful was going to happen if he didn’t manage make Viktor realize that he was dancing with someone he didn’t know.

Clearly lacking any arms to pound on the windows, or a human voice to scream Viktor’s name, Yuuri struck the glass with his beak instead. Then he did it again. And again. And again. The impact reverberated through his head, but how else was he supposed to make any noise louder than his pitiful honking?

After a few moments, Yuuri knew that this wasn’t going to work. He needed to find another way.

So Yuuri tucked his wings in (wincing at the stab of pain in his right side), and dove down to where he knew a few side doors were, kept so that the servants could easily and quietly come in and out of the palace, but quickly realized that each one was sealed tight. His heart sank. An insane amount of force was going to be needed to bust them open—force that Yuuri didn’t have.

Now thoroughly panicking, he shot back up to the windows, trying to get in Viktor’s line of vision. But Viktor’s eyes were still lovingly trained on the other Yuuri, and he wished for a split second that Viktor could just _take his eyes off of him—_

 _“Viktor!”_ Yuuri cried out, straining to hear the tinny melody through the glass. He pecked again on the latch keeping the window shut, but only managed to wedge it open slightly. The swell of the music inside crashed upon Yuuri’s eardrums, and he choked on a sudden sob.

It was supposed to be _Yuuri_ there. Anguish settled into his body, weighing it down, and hot tears welled in his eyes.

“Viktor—Viktor, I’m here,” Yuuri pleaded, his eyes squeezing shut as he pecked on the glass. “I’m _here._ Please _look_ at me.”

But then the sudden sound of Viktor’s voice washed over him, making his eyes fly open. The musicians lowered their instruments as their heir began speaking, and Yuuri instinctively knew what the announcement was for even before Viktor said so himself.

 _“I have something to say,”_ he announced aloud, confirming Yuuri’s fear.

Viktor was going to show his love to the wrong person; he was going to prove it to the wrong Yuuri in front of the whole world.

Desperation surged through his body.

“Viktor! Viktor, _no!”_ Yuuri shouted, pecking harder. He wasn’t strong enough, would _never_ be strong enough—

And his distressed wail nearly drowned out Viktor's next words. _“I should have listened to what my heart told me all those years ago,_ ”he was saying, his hand linked with the other person's. It hurt too much to see, and Yuuri’s wings flapped weakly as he listened to Viktor telling their story, how even through difficult times they were able to find each other, how much he meant to him.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri choked out, the sound a wet whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know who or what he was apologizing for, but Yuuri mourned for the life they could’ve had, the happiness that was just out of their reach, for the _what ifs_ and _could’ve beens._ He didn’t want to think anymore.

_“Yuuri is my everything, and he will do many great things for this kingdom.”_

It was like ocean waves were roaring within himself, battering his bones and breaking him down while they carried Viktor and his light farther and farther away—taking him somewhere that Yuuri couldn’t follow. And he couldn’t. Because all he could do was watch, frozen with horror as Viktor told the world a secret the two of them had kept for years.

 _“He's my soulmate, my other half, and I will love him until the end of time,”_ Viktor said, giving the other person a soft smile.

Yuuri hadn’t even noticed his necklace hanging around the person’s neck from this distance, but its shine was unmistakable now. And when Viktor gently unclasped it and slid Yuuri’s ring around the imposter’s finger—something inside him broke.

 

* * *

 

The first thing that Viktor registered after making his vow was a sudden feeling of loss inside himself, like when you only realized how cold and dark it was once a candle was snuffed out. He resisted the urge to shiver next to Yuuri’s own warmth, but then the next thing he saw was that Yuuri’s eyes were eerily blank. The cheers of the guests for his proposal were pushed into the background as for the second time that evening, he could sense that something was inherently _wrong._

Because if Viktor could compare Yuuri’s eyes to something, they’d be like the night sky—endlessly deep and sparkling with stars. But now, they were like like a cloudy mirror, devoid of clarity and expression, and only able to reflect the face of the beholder.

The thought bubbled to the top of his mind: _You aren’t him._

Viktor’s heart seemed to stutter in his chest with horror, and, unbidden, ice began to form between their joined hands. He quickly let go. This . . . this wasn’t Yuuri. It was so _obvious_ now—the mistimed steps during their dance, the unusual attitude—how could Viktor have been so _blind?_

And as soon as he took a step back from the false Yuuri, a hand clamped around his forearm in a vice-grip. The ring shone brightly underneath the candlelight. Viktor shuddered.

“Wait,” the person whispered, his voice an unearthly mixture of Yuuri’s and someone else’s. “You need to know.”

“I already know,” Viktor choked out, trying and failing to pull his arm away; the hold was too strong. “You aren’t my Yuuri.”

“Go to him before it’s too late,” he told Viktor, releasing him and pulling the ring off of his finger. “ _You must go!”_

And before his eyes, the Yuuri in front of him slowly shrank into someone else, a young boy with long dark hair and terrified eyes. They weren’t blank anymore, and Viktor wasn’t sure which scared him more—the ones filled with nothing, or the ones with a frightened sort of knowledge.

“Who are you?” Viktor whispered, clutching Yuuri’s ring close to his heart, and then the boy was roughly pulled away from him by someone who wasn’t wearing the deep black uniform of the Nikiforov royal guard, but the midnight blue of the Katsuki family’s—Nishigori Ryou, who had volunteered to stay behind.

And it seemed that the others finally seemed to realize that something, indeed, wasn’t right, and soldiers were soon forming a barrier between Viktor and the boy. The cheers and applause had cut off, casting an impenetrable, terrified, _haunting_ silence over the entire ballroom.

“Vitya, please step back,” Mila commanded over her shoulder, looking intimidatingly beautiful in her crisp black pants, pressed white blouse, and the dark blazer overtop it all. She was shorter than Viktor was, but in that moment she stood tall, wearing the Nikiforov uniform like armor. Her hand was resting lightly over the hilt of her sheathed sword, but Viktor knew how lethal she could be when the situation called for it. There was a reason _she_ was the one he usually sparred with.

Then Mila’s stance shifted almost imperceptibly as the boy fidgeted slightly in Ryou’s hold. “He’s dangerous.”

Viktor was taller than most of the soldiers planted firmly in front of him, so he could clearly see the trembling boy’s wide eyes as he hunched in on himself, now practically swimming in the kimono that had fit so well around him when he’d masqueraded as Yuuri. Viktor couldn’t see how someone this young could be dangerous, but he’d worn Yuuri’s face like a mask to—to do what?

What was he trying to do? Trick him?

Why?

Viktor couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t _understand._

“Who are you?” Mila asked coldly, taking her upcoming role as captain seriously. “Why did you pretend to be Prince Katsuki Yuuri of Hasetsu?”

“I—I don’t remember coming here. F-Father, he told me—”

The boy’s expression was already flooded with a cloudy fear, and he looked so unbelievably _small_. Viktor’s heart ached. For some reason, he couldn’t feel it inside himself to feel anger at him; he could only feel sadness for being forced to do something like this.

And by his own father? How could a parent  _do_ such a thing?

“Speak!” Mila said, her brows slanted downward.

Then the boy’s expression shifted into one resembling horror when his eyes met Viktor’s again. “He’s in trouble!” he suddenly blurted, his gaze now startlingly clear as he looked past Mila’s shoulder and to Viktor.

“What?” Viktor whispered unthinkingly as the boy began trying to struggle out of Ryou’s hold with the effort to relay the message, but was unable to take more than a small step forward.

“Who is?” Mila demanded, but the boy was still fixing Viktor with large, dark eyes and shouting, “Tsesarevich, you have to go to him!”

Viktor still didn’t understand, frozen in place by the boy’s tormented stare. He could’ve been _lying_ for all Viktor knew, but you couldn’t fake such genuine emotions; the terror in his eyes was _real._

And then the boy screwed his eyes shut and finally screamed, “Yuuri’s going to _die!”_

Something ice-cold began to trickle down his chest. “What?” Viktor mumbled again, the ring now biting into his palm as his fists clenched. “Yuuri?”

“You gave your love to someone who wasn’t your soulmate—his magic’s already almost gone, and that shattered the already-weakened bond,” he told him, looking anguished. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean by that?” A different voice spoke this time, deeper and masculine in comparison to Mila’s lighter, melodic tones. Nishigori Ryou. “What’s happened to Yuuri?”

The boy startled, as if he’d just realized who was keeping him still. His eyes filled with confused recognition.

“. . . Ryou-sama?”

Viktor and Mila realized the same thing at the same time— _they know each other_ —and then all hell broke loose as Mila reacted to the situation first.

She sprang forward out of the line of soldiers, her sword poised to kill, but Ryou was faster. Though he was older, his experience and the reflexes ingrained in his body trumped Mila’s. He brought up his own sword to block the attack, then struck so powerfully that Mila’s grip on her weapon was broken.

Mila let out a grunt of pain as the blade clattered to the ground, a few strands of red hair falling from her bun. “Why?” she begged, clutching her wrist and staggering back slightly. “You’re supposed to be _protecting_ your prince—why are you betraying him?”

“He told me that Yuuri’s soul magic will bring my wife back,” he snarled, his once-friendly demeanor overshadowed by the dark look over his face. “And I don’t care _who_ has to be sacrificed for her.”

“You’re insane!” Viktor blurted, shaking his head. “Soul magic isn’t _like_ that—it’s light and pure and it can’t be used for dark magic! It would only unleash something terrible onto the world if it was twisted that way!”

Viktor didn't know how he even knew that, but he knew deep inside that he was right.

“Well, it’s all that I’ve got, Viktor,” Ryou said, eerily calm for a moment as he spoke. He then swept the boy behind him with one arm, protecting him from the barrage of attacks from the oncoming soldiers who had broken themselves out of their stunned stupor. Viktor could only watch, shock still coursing through him. Everything had happened so fast—

Then his head whipped to the side as a hand clamped around his arm, dragging him away.

“Vitya, we have to get you to safety,” he heard Yakov’s gruff voice saying in his ear, but Viktor’s mind was still trying to catch up to whatever had just happened.

Viktor still couldn’t believe that Ryou was a traitor—that he _knew_ who was responsible for Yuuri’s kidnapping. That he probably even _helped_ with it that night, even to the risk of nearly getting _Takeshi,_ his only child, killed.

Nothing made _sense_ anymore.

“What about Mama?” Viktor asked, the effort to speak feeling much larger than it should, and Yakov responded grimly, “Your grandfather is already taking her and Lilia to the safe room.”

Viktor risked a glance back to the center of the chaos, and his eyes widened as he realized that everything had gotten much worse in the few seconds he’d left. Guests were screaming and fleeing from the ballroom while soldiers poured in, Mila was on the ground again and clutching at her side, her white blouse stained red, and then as if time had slowed, Viktor’s eyes could only follow the path of Ryou’s hand and watch him pull a bottle from his shirt and smash it onto the floor.

Then time progressed as it normally did, thick purple smoke erupting from the bottle's point of impact, quickly enveloping the boy and Ryou himself in it. And when it cleared, they had vanished.

“Don’t let them escape!” Mila shouted, having picked up her sword again and leaning heavily on both it and Sara, who had inexplicably appeared next to her in the moments Viktor looked away from her. “Anyone injured is to go to the infirmary, but all available soldiers are to go to their horses—we must apprehend the traitor!”

Yakov was still pulling Viktor out of the ballroom, determinedly weaving in and out of the frightened guests, and then, as if compelled by some unseen force, Viktor lifted his head to the window above them.

And through it, he saw a white swan flying away, only visible in the inky sky because of its plumage. The swan listed to the left for a few terrifying seconds before shakily righting itself, and Viktor’s breath caught in his throat.

No. _No._

_“Yuuri!”_

“Vitya—Viktor, wait!”

Viktor had wrenched his arm out of Yakov’s grip, and the next thing he knew, he had passed the guards, was already on horseback, and was racing out of the palace grounds and back into the forest with a sheathed sword banging at his hip and Yuuri's ring tucked safely into his pocket. Tonight seemed colder than usual—the chill of the air managed to seep into his skin, despite the slight resistance he had because of his magic—his soul already missing Yuuri’s light and warmth. The sound of his horse’s hooves beat rhythmically into the icy ground, and Viktor urged it to go _faster, faster,_ faster _._

He needed to get back to Yuuri—before it was too late.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was so tired.

His eyes drooped as he flew unsteadily away from the palace windows, his body and soul aching. With every mile that stretched between him and Viktor, Yuuri felt as if he were fading away—losing just another part of himself as he felt the Soulbond splintering.

 _Viktor, it’s not your fault,_ he was able to think in one moment of lucidity, transferring all the affection he could across their bond. Yuuri didn’t know if their connection even worked that way, but it was worth a shot.

_You’re my everything too._

In a few wingbeats, Yuuri had quickly cleared the palace grounds, flown over the starlit gardens, and was now over the surrounding city. He weakly dodged the taller steeples of the cathedral, his body feeling as if weights were hanging from it.

He was so _tired._

Yuuri was over the forests now, and the lake was back in his line of sight. His brain was so muddled—he forgot that there was no moon to transform him tonight—but that was no matter. He descended into the water gently, hearing faint, panicked voices from his side as the tips of his wings skimmed the surface of the lake ( _oh,_ he’d missed it), and then blessed silence as he collapsed onto the cobbled ground a few yards away.

His chest was still aching as he lay there and breathed in the cold air, feeling like something was missing from it. It was almost as if a connection had been ripped away, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and Yuuri felt lost.

Maybe Satou had finally succeeded in taking his magic, Yuuri thought faintly as he stared up at the starry, moonless night. Could that be why he was like this? But it hurt too much inside just because he’d lost his magic again—Yuuri _knew_ what it felt like, _had_ felt it for four years—and this was so much more than that.

He searched inside himself and had to choke back a sob when he realized he couldn’t feel Viktor’s presence anymore. Their bond had been lost as well.

Because if losing his magic was like losing a body part, then losing his connection with Viktor was like losing his entire self. But Yuuri could feel his heart beating weakly in his chest, something inside him still calling out for the other half of his soul—just needing him to stay close.

Then he blinked, and instead of seeing the night sky, he saw Viktor, his bright blue eyes wet as he cradled Yuuri’s body to his chest. Yuuri shifted, feeling his fingers and toes stretch, and relief as he sighed. The resistance from the collar was gone, and somehow, he'd become human again, the curse lifting in that small moment in time.

"Yuuri?” Viktor was saying, his arms curled gently around Yuuri’s head and body. “I'm so sorry, _lyubov._ It’s all my fault.”

“Hi, Vitya,” Yuuri murmured weakly, trying to muster up a small smile. His body felt heavier than ever and he just wanted to sleep. “I-I tried to make it to your birthday tonight.”

Viktor’s eyes had widened when Yuuri spoke, but now he kissed his forehead and laughed wetly. His hair tickled Yuuri’s face as he bowed his head. “I know,” he said. “I saw. Please forgive me for not realizing sooner.” His voice was choked and broken, tears spilling freely down his face. “You're the only one I would give my heart to.”

“I could _never_ be mad at you,” Yuuri said hoarsely, squeezing his hand. His mouth curved upward slightly as he memorized his love’s face the same way he did just last night. With only his gaze, Yuuri traced the soft lips that would seem to stretch into a heart when he smiled, the places on his cheeks where freckles would dance across his skin every summer they spent together as children, the lovely slope of Viktor’s nose, then finally to the ice-blue eyes that could hold so much warmth, just for Yuuri.

_“Aishiteru.”_

When Viktor’s eyes widened, Yuuri realized he’d said that aloud. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, because Yuuri loved him, he loved him, he _loved_ him. It was a love stronger than anything, a love that Viktor needed to know before he—

Then Yuuri watched sadly as Viktor folded in on himself when a fresh wave of sobs wracked his body. “Yuuri, _no—_ you're going to be okay,” he said, his fingers running through Yuuri’s hair as if he knew what Yuuri had been thinking. “You’re not going to— _you’re not going to—”_

“Vitya,” Yuuri murmured, cutting him off. His heart twisted in his chest when he saw Viktor’s face crumple with additional unshed tears.

It was a comforting gesture, but Yuuri knew better as he hugged Viktor back with all his might. Something inside him had been irreparably shattered, weakening him, and it was only a matter of time before he had to go. Spots were already gathering at the edge of his vision. Viktor’s face was getting fuzzier.

“ _No,_ ” Viktor wept, hugging him close and shaking his head like if he did it enough times, then the inevitable wouldn’t happen. “ _Yuuri._ What have I _done_ to you?”

Phichit, Yuri, and Guang-hong appeared then too, and something inside Yuuri loosened when he saw that they were human again as well; that the spell had lifted from them all. He was so glad.

“Where’s Chris?” Yuuri asked, his voice barely audible.

“He snuck inside Satou’s palace to look for anything useful after you left,” Phichit explained quietly, gripping the hand that wasn’t intertwined with Viktor’s. “We obviously couldn’t come with him, and so we—we decided to wait for you.”

Yuuri forced a small grin. “Well, I look a little pathetic now—I wouldn’t want him to see me like this.”

He’d been joking to try to lighten up the somber atmosphere, but at his words, Yuri shook his head wildly and burst out, “Don’t _say_ that!”

His voice had cracked with tears he refused to shed, and Yuuri immediately felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry, Yura.”

“You _idiot,_ ” Yuri hissed brokenly, allowing Viktor to pull him to his side. It was the first time they’d properly reunited for the first time in two weeks, and Yuuri only wished that they could’ve seen each other again in better circumstances than this as Yuri mumbled, “You _promised_.”

Yuuri couldn’t think of anything to say, but then Phichit tipped forward and buried his face into Yuuri’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. Though it startled him, Yuuri slowly relaxed and held his best friend tightly, feeling his tears soaking his shoulder.

And when Yuuri peered over Phichit’s shoulder at Guang-hong and saw tears welling in his eyes, he felt a pang of guilt when he saw the slight, but significant, distance between him and the rest of the group. He quietly realized that Guang-hong felt like he didn’t deserve to cry, that he didn’t deserve to be there. Yuuri only wished he could’ve grown closer to him in the time they’d been together, to let him know that he cared for him, but he’d lost his chance within their plans to escape. There were so many things he could've done . . .

So he let go of Phichit and extended his hand to Guang-hong, and gave him a small smile when he felt his fingers link with his own. Yuuri squeezed it comfortingly, trying to tell him everything that he couldn’t before.

“I love you all,” he told them soon after, the ability to speak getting harder and harder with each passing second. Then he finally looked at Viktor, at the wetness trailing down his face, at the minute trembling of his lips.

Yuuri’s other hand shook slightly as he lifted it to cup Viktor’s tear-stained cheek.

 _I don’t want to go,_ he thought desperately, beginning to feel himself fading. He wasn’t ready to give up on his happiness just yet. He wanted to _stay—!_

He stifled a sob and mustered up his courage. “Hold me in your heart,” Yuuri whispered instead, smiling tenderly as his thumb stroked Viktor’s face. “Take care of everyone for me." Then, his voice softer, "And Vitya . . . don’t forget that I love you more than life itself.”

Viktor looked heartbroken as he gripped Yuuri’s hand in his own. Even during something like this, _especially_ during something like this, they couldn’t bear to be apart, just needing to have the other person stay close. 

He felt weightless as he closed his eyes, like only a single, fraying string was keeping him tethered to the earth and preventing him from floating away. He didn't even feel cold anymore.

_"Yuuri? Yuuri!"_

Then the string snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yIKES it's been a while, hasn't it? *hides*
> 
> This chapter was so hard to write bc _emotions._ There were . . . so many. My heart is hurting.
> 
> (And also I'm going back to school next week and I will most likely die due to a killer combination of my wonderful ability to procrastinate plus mountains of school work OTL)  
>  
> 
> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. Um, so I've played around with the original Swan Princess plot a little by having Keiichi break out of the spell placed on him by Satou and tell Viktor about his father's plan instead of Satou randomly storming in and doing the standard villain monologue. Because if Satou's truly trying to make Viktor accidentally marry Keiichi by thinking he's Yuuri . . . then boom—two kingdoms immediately infiltrated. But unluckily for his plan, Keiichi's stubborn as heck and Viktor eventually listens to his gut.
> 
> 2\. The spell lifts on the kidnapped gang since Yuuri's—uh, gone. There'd be no point for Satou to keep them as leverage since he's already gotten what he needs from Yuuri, so they're human again now. The collar on Yuuri disappears as well. There are Reasons™ for this.
> 
>  
> 
> Um, I'd love to hear what you thought? Even if it's just some incoherent screaming because of *cough* _said events._ I'm on Tumblr [here!](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com)


	15. Reconnection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [crawls out from under a rock] Hello...
> 
> But in other news, omoth has gotten to 1k kudos in the time I've been gone??? That's so crazy oh my gosh I'm crying ;A; THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I love you all :')
> 
> And some other news!! thel3montart on tumblr drew the [loveliest swan Yuuri](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/post/165374596931/thel3montart-was-itching-to-draw-something-after)??? I'm so in love with this aaaaaaa pls check it out and show the artist some love ( ´ ♡ ` )
> 
> So without further adieu, please enjoy the long-awaited chapter!!

“Viktor!”

Viktor’s head jerked up, seeing Yuuri’s frame silhouetted against the fading shadows of the early evening. He stood from his spot next to his mother’s bedroom door, arms already outstretched to hold his dearest friend close despite his surprise at seeing him here.

“Yuuri, how—?”

“I came as soon as I could,” he breathed in lieu of an answer, slotting himself into Viktor’s frame perfectly. And as soon as Viktor inhaled Yuuri’s scent of jasmine and cherry blossoms, tinged with the slightest musk of sea air, his composure broke, and he crumpled into Yuuri’s hold.

“Yuuri, I can’t do this.”

Yuuri’s arms squeezed tighter around him, capturing him with their force. “Have faith,” he said fiercely, his body soft and warm and comforting against his own. “Don’t give up just yet.”

“It’s been so _hard_ ,” Viktor said hoarsely, and _oh,_ it felt so good to finally get those words out. He'd gotten tired of staying strong for everyone else, weighed down by a combination of stress, worry, and fear, and was glad to crumple into Yuuri's capable hands. “Yuuri, I’m _terrified_. Mama, she—” He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling himself tremble. “Th-they told me that if she doesn’t wake up by morning, she’ll—”

“Viktor—”

“I knew I had to lead Russia someday, but I never imagined I’d do it without my mother,” Viktor whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. “I _can’t_ rule this country without her guidance.”

It was April. It wasn’t Yuuri’s normal time to visit, but he was here to do what he did best: preventing Viktor from making any harmful decisions.

“And you won’t have to for a very long time. She’s going to be okay,” Yuuri told him, his expression gentle as he pulled back slightly. “Minako’s already working with the doctors. We’ve seen this illness back home before, so we know what to do.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed. “Minako? But I didn’t see her go in,” he said, feeling both relieved and confused. It was an unusual combination.

Then Yuuri cupped Viktor’s cheeks with his hands, smiling. “You know that dancers are light on their feet. Even former ones. And I _promise_ that you won’t need to worry about your mother any longer. So all you need to do is have faith in Minako’s expertise.”

Viktor nodded. “Okay.”

They were twenty and twenty-four years old in that instance, having known each other for nearly a decade. Love wasn’t even a whisper between them yet, still being quietly nursed in their hearts, but who was to know their souls were already calling to each other even before they met?

Certainly not them, still nestled in their quiet moment, foreheads tilted close.

 

* * *

 

Someone was crying.

“Yuuri? _Yuuri!_ Wake up—oh God, _please_.”

Who was it?

Viktor blinked, and the image of Katsuki Yuuri’s pale face swam into view, the warm smile from his memory gone. His breath hitched. No. _No._

There was no way _._ Yuuri’s death was something that shouldn’t be possible. It was just as absurd as the sun never rising, time stopping, or the absence of the seagulls’ cries every morning, and all that Viktor found he could do was _stare._ In his arms, Yuuri’s head lolled lifelessly, that small, beautiful smile fading from his face, and only the faintest, fading heartbeat providing that warm flush to his soft cheeks. Denial still ran through him even as wetness sprung to his eyes, his heart realizing the inevitable before his mind did. And when the two finally synced, Viktor choked as a fresh wave of tears wracked his body.

“Please come back,” Viktor begged, his vision becoming blurry. He buried his face into Yuuri's inky hair. “ _Please._ I love you. I’m _so_ —”

“ _Stop it_.”

Viktor startled at the voice, his eyes locking with Yura’s. Immediately, a fist seemed to clench around Viktor's heart at the sight of his brother's splotchy, tear-stained face. "Yura, I—" he tried, unsure of what he wanted to say, but Yura shook his head violently.

“No,” he said again, his voice trembling. Anguish was written across his features. “Stop. You—you can’t _do_ anything, so just—” He broke off then, his shoulders shaking with suppressed tears, and Viktor dropped his gaze back down to Yuuri's face, unable to say anything else in reply.

He didn’t know how long he sat there cradling Yuuri’s body to his chest, but the longer he did, the more that the chill of the winter night settled around his frame like a sheet. The cold had always been comforting, but now Viktor would give _anything_ to have Yuuri’s warmth back in his arms.

The others were still sitting around him in stunned silence, shock etched onto their faces, and _—_ Viktor had to stifle another sob— _God,_ they were so _young._ Even Phichit, at twenty, was seven years younger than Viktor.

“Oh my God,” he heard Phichit choke out after what felt like _hours_ , hands pressed so tightly against his mouth it seemed that he could barely breathe. “Oh my God. _Yuuri._ ”

Guang-hong was frozen at Phichit’s side, his eyes glassy and knuckles white as his hands clenched in his lap.

And Viktor could feel Yura trembling next to him, quiet sobs finally beginning to rip out of his throat. The sound of his tears—from strong, unflappable, _fierce_ Yura—snapped Viktor out of his grief-induced haze, his disbelief and shock combining into something stronger, _darker,_  found only within the deepest parts of himself. Because Viktor Nikiforov was not a man who held anger in his heart. He was a man who strove to find peace, to compromise, to fix a smile on his face to hide the fury inside—he would rather please others and converse diplomatically rather than resort to an argument against those that had wronged him.

But he wouldn’t let go of the storm brewing inside this time. He’d let it overflow and flood his entire being until the entire _world_ knew what kind of loss it had suffered tonight with Katsuki Yuuri’s death.

“My vow was for _him,_ ” Viktor found himself saying, the words low in his throat. “For _Yuuri_.”

And it was. _Oh,_ it was.

Because he loved him, he loved him, he _loved_ him.

“How _pathetic_  it is to cry for a doll,” Viktor suddenly heard. He stiffened slightly, but it was nothing compared to the reactions of the others.

Guang-hong tensed at the voice, his eyes narrowing into a glare. Yura hunched over, his hands shaking as he gripped Viktor’s sleeve, and Phichit squeezed him close. Viktor tried to meet Phichit’s eyes, questioning what was happening, but the other was staring past him with his lips pressed together and a fire burning in his gaze even as tears continued to drip down his cheeks.

Viktor twisted around to follow Phichit’s line of vision and frowned when he glimpsed a figure that hadn’t been there before, standing half-hidden in the shadows of the bare forest.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Yura muttered, his other arm curling around himself. "Hasn't Satou shown his ugly face around here enough already?" His face twisted with pain, and Viktor saw Phichit and Guang-hong exchanging worried looks as they glanced back at him. And when they returned their attention back to the shadowed figure, Viktor had the strangest feeling he'd missed something—something _important_. As Viktor continued to watch them, though, they seemed to subconsciously inch closer; he could almost imagine an invisible curtain falling between himself and the others, shutting him out.

It was as if they had forgotten that Viktor was even there.

"It's a little silly to waste emotions on someone who can't wake up, don't you think?" Satou asked, voice light. "I don't know why humans even bother with such trivial things."

Viktor bristled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Then Satou responded, “Oh, I quite think I do.” His eyes glinted with something unreadable as he stared unblinkingly in their direction. “If you weren’t too busy with your senseless melodrama, you’d see that your dear prince isn’t nearly as dead as you think.”

Viktor’s heart leapt into his throat. “ _What?”_ he breathed, looking down at Yuuri before meeting Satou's gaze again. And now that he looked closer, he could see the gentle rise and fall of Yuuri's chest, accompanied by a soft puff of air when he exhaled.

Despite it all, Yuuri was  _alive._

“What’s the catch?” Yura said suddenly, breaking Viktor from his stupor. His voice was no longer shaking as badly as it was before, but though he wiped the tears from his face, his cheeks and nose were still red from crying. He continued, “You can’t be telling us this out of the goodness of your heart when you don’t even _have_ one.”

The sorcerer’s answering grin was eerie. “How cruel, Yuri. But that’s the question, isn’t it? So to answer, a soulless body still lives,” Satou added, still grinning. “Yet his consciousness is so far gone that there’s no hope of him waking again.”

 _“Bullshit,_ ” Yura swore, his hand slashing in a wide arc. "You knowhow to _fix_ this, you—!"

But Satou had turned his gaze on the others, ignoring him. “And here I thought you all would be happier to be humans again,” he said, almost chastising them. That smile was still on his face, fatherly and benign, but there was something about the stiffness of his lips and the coldness in his eyes that made Viktor shiver. “I was kind enough to lift the curse on you after taking everything I needed from Prince Yuuri—I would appreciate some gratitude.”

Viktor _knew_ that Satou was only here to gloat over his win, but at the sound of Yuuri's name in Satou's mouth, anger began to bubble anew in Viktor’s chest. He was betterthan this, but _here_  was the one who had taken his brother and stolen his beloved’s life. _Here_  was the one who turned a man against his own kingdom, made a _child_ into a _puppet—_

He was about to scream, shout, do _something,_ but Phichit beat him to it.

“Go _fuck_ yourself,” he said lowly, and Viktor stared at him, shocked. The response was so unlike him that he wouldn’t have even realized it was _Phichit_ speaking if Viktor wasn’t looking straight at him. Then he hissed, his voice cracking with unshed tears, “You piece of _shit,_ bring Yuuri _back._ ”

And at the venomous words, the pleasant smile slid off of Satou’s lips into a frown. The air around them seemed to drop ten degrees.

“You want your Yuuri back?” he asked, his voice a deadly murmur. His eyes seemed to pierce into Viktor’s soul. “I’d like to see you try.”

Phichit’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing I’d love better.” He glanced over at Viktor then, silently questioning, and Viktor nodded.

“If there’s even the slightest chance that Yuuri can live,” he said, smoothing Yuuri’s hair back, “I’d take that risk thousands of times over.”

Despite himself, Phichit cracked a small smile. “You’re a good man, Viktor Nikiforov. I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

Viktor's responding smile was tight. “So am I." Then he turned to Yura and Guang-hong, who were silently assessing the situation. “Take care of Yuuri while we’re gone,” Viktor said, gently removing Yuuri from his lap. “We’re going to bring him back.”

For once, Yura didn’t protest. “Don’t break your promise like Katsudon did,” he muttered, taking Yuuri from him while Guang-hong helped. “I’ve got some _words_ for him when he wakes up.”

“Stay safe, guys,” Guang-hong said, wrapping Yuuri’s arm around his shoulder.

Viktor gave them a small smile, then took a deep breath as he turned around to face Satou. His anger returned ten-fold, and his hands began to clench. Everything— _everything_ that had happened to them—it was all _his_ fault.

“Are you quite done?” Satou asked, his eyes shining with dark mirth. He was closer now, close enough that Viktor could feel the strength of the magic that Satou possessed. “There’s no way you can find the prince’s soul, so fighting against me is pointless. I assure you that you’ll lose very quickly.”

“I don’t _care_ about what you think,” Viktor said, his voice low in his throat. And before he knew it, he had grabbed Satou by the shirt. “And I’m going to do as much as I can to make you give Yuuri _back._ ”

Satou tilted his head, observing the way Viktor’s hands had curled into the fabric. “Is that a threat?”

“You bet it is,” Viktor said, his voice barely a whisper as his grip tightened. “I promised to marry him.”

Then Viktor was shoved backward, and he stumbled as he tried to regain his footing.

“Viktor!” Phichit cried, steadying him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, unsheathing his sword with a _shink._ “I’m fine.”

When Viktor looked back at Satou, he was startled to see the empty expression on the other’s face. “Love is incredibly stupid,” Satou laughed, sparks flickering at his fingertips. “Oh, I’m going to have a lot of fun showing you how ill-placed your love for Katsuki Yuuri really is.”

Then Satou spread his arms, and Viktor and Phichit only had a split second until their line of vision was awash with flame. Viktor cursed as the magic surrounded them almost instantly. Their fighting grounds had gotten much smaller in mere moments.

“How does it feel to know that the last remaining thing of your beloved is going to destroy you?” Satou scorned, his expression and tone nothing short of psychotic. Viktor grunted as he rolled to the side and his breath left his lungs with a _whoosh_ when he dropped to the ground to avoid the blast. His hair flopped in front of his eyes and he pushed the matted strands away from his face, a combination of sweat and dust plastering them to his forehead.  

This quiet, simmering strength of the flames—this couldn’t be anything else other than _Yuuri’s_ power, twisted by the hands of a madman.

His hand trembled around the grip he had on his sword, and he staggered to his feet, the tip of the blade dragging against the frozen dirt. Phichit, though, had recovered much faster, and managed to pick up a large branch to fight with.

“You’ll never touch Yuuri again,” Phichit swore. “On my life, I _swear_ it.”

Viktor had never seen Phichit fight before, but he moved like a dancer as he dodged the bursts of flame. It was like he was fencing, but with roughened wood instead of a sleek sabre. Satou grunted in pain when the branch hit him in the side, but almost immediately landed a blow of his own on Phichit’s stomach.

As Phichit crumpled, Viktor gritted his teeth as he rushed forward to help. He’d never used his magic for combat before—there was no point, and he had to keep it secret throughout his life anyway—but he still had to _try._ The magic-induced fire was beginning to die a little now, broadening the area where they could go.

With a shout, Viktor unleashed a wave of ice in Satou’s direction, but the magic was quickly dissipated with the lazy movement of the other’s hand.

“You don’t have much practice with aiming to kill, do you?” Satou noted as he watched the ice melt in the face of the flames. Viktor bit his lip, unsure what to do next as he stepped back to get closer to Phichit. “Your power’s been wasted, Viktor Nikiforov,” he called, sounding amused. “Imagine what you could’ve done with magic like that. Instead you kept it dormant inside you, withering from disuse.”

“You’re _insane,_ ” Viktor said incredulously, the words slipping out of their own accord, and Satou only laughed.

“Oh, my dear boy,” he said, cackling maniacally with sparks still bursting from his fingertips, “you don’t kill as many people as I do and half the things I’ve done without losing your humanity!”

Viktor lunged and tried to slash at Satou with his sword at the same time Phichit tried to get another blow in, but they struck a dark shield instead. The force reverberated up Viktor's arms, making him drop the blade, but before he could grab it again, Satou had kicked it away.

“It’s _ridiculous_ how much you’re trying to get him back,” he said, voice dripping with disdain.

Viktor’s head snapped up, heart pulsing with anger. “I would do no less for him.”

“Soulmates, love— _ha!_ What a stupid concept.” Satou’s lip curled and sparks continued to crackle from his hands, a different sort of magic beginning to surround him now. “Why separate such a brilliant ability between two halves when you could have the whole?”

“What do you mean?” he demanded, helping Phichit up off the ground. They stood together, warily watching for Satou’s next move.

“Soulmates are made to contain power,” Satou sneered. “The universe deemed that one human vessel wasn’t enough to hold that power, so split that magic into two. The magic served as that person’s lifeblood, but I knew better. My soulmate was useless anyway!”

Viktor felt as if the world had tilted sideways as his mind worked in overdrive, quickly making sense of the new information. Yuuri’s magic. His _soul._ If he could somehow take it back from Satou, that was how Yuuri would _live._

“My soulmate had nothing to offer me besides her magic, and once I stole everything from her, she became as empty as your Yuuri did. And now,” he shouted, his voice crescendoing, “with all that I’ve collected, I can destroy you and conquer _kingdoms._ All will bow to me as their God!”

Then the sparks exploded as he clapped his hands and transformed into a large, winged beast.

  

* * *

 

“There’s so much fire . . .” Guang-hong said, trailing off as his gaze drifted back to where they’d just left Viktor and Phichit. The flames burning in the trees were spreading, and their heat cut easily through the winter night. “We need to help them,” he said, sounding desperate, but Yuri shook his head as they hurried around the outer banks of the lake and away from the center of the chaos.

“No,” he said, reluctant to say so. Yuri winced as his next step pulled on his sore ribs, and forced  himself to stop for a moment. “We can’t, and I’m useless like this,” he admitted, his fingers brushing over his bruised side. “All we _can_ do is protect Yuuri until Vitya and Phichit win.”

And the _what if they don’t?_ was left unsaid, neither of them wanting to think about something that terrible.

“Let’s stop here,” Guang-hong suggested instead, and Yuri nodded. They set Yuuri down by the water’s edge, and another loud explosion drew their attention back to the fight.

_Soulless._

That was how Satou described Yuuri.

But how could someone just be without their _soul?_ It didn't make sense. The soul was something intrinsically connected to the human person, so it just couldn't _leave._

Yet even so, Satou had managed to rip Yuuri’s soul away from him.

An unearthly screech then echoed through the area around them, and Yuri’s head snapped up to see a massive, dark shadow rising in the sky.

“What the _fuck,_ ” he gasped, taking an involuntary step back. “Are you seeing this?”

Guang-hong pressed his lips together. “Yeah,” he said grimly. “They’re _definitely_ going to need help now.”

Yuri glanced at him, startled, yet unsurprised, by the change in his tone. “But what about Yuuri?”

“Chris should be coming back any minute now,” he replied, his expression no longer fearful. His gaze was trained on the beast in the sky, tracking each of its movements. “I hope he managed to find something useful in Satou’s castle.”

If Guang-hong wasn’t the sovereign of his country, and if Yuri wasn’t a royal himself, Guang-hong’s sudden switch in behavior would’ve confused the hell out of him. But royalty had to adapt to everything in times of crisis, and this— _this_ was a definitely a time of crisis. He had seemed so meek and demure during their time in captivity, but now he was beginning to let his strength show when it mattered most.

“Chris!” Guang-hong called suddenly, waving down a figure in the distance. “Over here! And hurry!”

As Chris came closer, Yuri noticed that someone was trailing after him. “Watch out!” he shouted, but watched, stunned, when Chris did nothing about it. Or rather, he wrapped an arm around the figure's shoulders.

“I found someone,” Chris said lightly. He gestured unnecessarily to Keiichi, who wouldn’t meet their eyes. “He helped me fight the captain of the Katsuki royal guard, actually.”

Yuri gaped. “Ryou? _Why?”_

Now that Chris was closer, Yuri could see how he walked with a slight limp, seeming to favor his left side. “He turned out to be a traitor to his kingdom,” he said heavily. “Started spewing some crap about Yuuri’s soul magic being able to bring his wife back, but all the stories about magic say that _nothing_ can bring the dead to life—even if it _is_ from half of a Soulbonded pair.” Chris touched his bleeding lip gingerly. “For an older guy, though, he’s pretty strong. It’s thanks to Keiichi here that the fight became a little easier.”

“Where’s he now?” Guang-hong asked.

“We locked him in a cell,” Keiichi blurted out, and Chris clapped him on the shoulder, a look of pride spreading across his features. Yuri almost expected Keiichi to instantly flinch away from the touch like he did when he first met him, but a small smile, quiet in its joy, made its way onto his lips instead. Huh.

But Yuri knew the exact moment when they saw Yuuri’s comatose body when their faces slackened at the same time.

Chris swore under his breath as Keiichi murmured, “He’s Soulless now, isn’t he.”

“Yes,” Guang-hong said tersely. A short pause, then he spoke again, his expression steely. “Do you know what happened?”

Keiichi’s eyes grew wide with alarm, but before he could reply, Chris spoke instead. “That’s not important now,” he said briskly, his voice carrying authority like a second skin. “Anyway, I saw everything from the windows, and if that monster up there _is_ that guy who knocked me out in the forest, then Viktor and Phichit are in over their heads.”

“They can’t fight in their current state,” Keiichi agreed, just as Chris grabbed a bow that Yuri hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Then how _would_ they be able to win then?” Yuri pressed, glaring at Keiichi.

“I—I don't—”

“No," Yuri said, taking a step forward. "I don’t know what happened to make Yuuri like this, but I _do_ know that _this_ is your chance to make things right. Your chance to get away from Satou and live your _own_ life for once! Don't walk away from this chance.”

Keiichi was standing there, frozen, but a glimmer of determination was beginning to spark in his eyes.

“Yuri—” Chris started, frowining slightly, but based on Keiichi’s reaction, it seemed that those were the right words to say.

“My own life,” he repeated, and Yuri had to hide a grin. But Keiichi didn’t try to hide his at all. “That sounds like a wonderful thing.”

Then Guang-hong grinned, his stony face softening once again. “So what are you going to do about it?”

 

* * *

 

They were losing.

Viktor hated to admit it, but there was _no_ way that they could fight someone this powerful without any outside help.

Blood was smeared over Viktor’s knees and elbows from where gravel had scraped skin away, and based on the way his breath rattled in his chest, his ribs were probably either bruised or broken.

Phichit, though, was in a much worse condition—he was collapsed on the ground again, his leg sticking out at an unnatural angle.

Satou had been relentless in his attacks, grabbing their bodies with his claws and slamming them into tree trunks. His grip gouged long wounds into their skin. It was obvious that he was toying with them, and if Viktor didn’t think of a way to defeat him soon, then they were all going to be killed. Satou was currently nowhere to be seen, but Viktor knew that he was biding his time as well, devising a plan of what to do next.

Black spots danced at the edge of Viktor’s vision, and he didn’t think he could stand much longer. What else could he do? He wracked his mind for _anything_ , but nothing came to mind—his own weak magic was useless against someone more practiced. And his sword was long-broken, splintered by Satou’s teeth during the first few minutes of his transformation and lying in pieces on the ground a few feet away.

Viktor dropped to his knees as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He put his palm to his chest, over his soulmarks, his fingers tangling in the cloth of his torn shirt. They were going to die.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri,” he whispered to himself. “I can’t keep up much longer.”

But then the sound of footsteps reached his ears. “Viktor!” someone shouted, lightly slapping his cheek. _Yuuri,_ he thought, his mind sluggish. But no, it wasn’t him. It was the boy from the ball—the one who had _pretended_ to be Yuuri.

“What—” he croaked, but then something was shoved roughly into his hands. Viktor's fingers clenched around it instinctively. “W-What?” he mumbled again, recognizing the worn grooves from his own bow. He thought he’d dropped it somewhere in the forest last night. “How can I do anything with this? I don't have any arrows.”

“Tsesarevich, your _magic,_ ” the boy stressed, pulling Viktor to his feet. “You can defeat Fath—Satou—that way.”

Viktor frowned, his foggy mind slowly beginning to clear. The bow dangled from his fingertips. “It doesn’t work. I’ve tried, but I’m— _not_ strong enough. Not for this.”

“But you _are,_ ” he insisted, his eyes shining with trust. It was different from the dark, haunted look from the ballroom, and Viktor found himself thinking that it was only right that he carry out his belief just to keep that expression of hope on his face. “You’re an archer, aren’t you? So the next time Satou arrives, shoot, and have faith in your abilities.” He paused for a moment, then said, "Yuuri's waiting for you to win."

The bow was pressed into his hands again, and then the boy was gone.

And when the tell-tale roar of Satou’s arrival erupted above him, Viktor didn’t think about his next actions. His aching muscles screamed in protest as he raised the bow into position, but he gritted his teeth as he drew the string back. Viktor imagined an arrow there, the fletching nestling perfectly within his fingers. He imagined his love for Yuuri, his family, his friends—all poured into one single burst.

Then he released, a wave of cold air following the vibration of the string. As Viktor watched, it solidified into an arrow made of ice that spiraled into the starry sky above, glowing violet with the strength of its power.

When the arrow embedded itself into Satou’s chest, his screech of agony echoed around the lake. His wings stiffened as his controlled dive became a free-fall, and he began to plummet. Faint wisps of brightly-colored magic seeped from the arrow wound, leaving behind a trail as he fell, almost like the tail of a shooting star.

(And quickly, so _so_ quickly that Viktor would’ve missed it if he blinked, a small blue spark flew across the lake.)

(To where _Yuuri_ was.)

Viktor watched as Satou hit the surface of the lake, instantly vanishing with a sunburst of light. It was almost beautiful in its destruction, leaving behind an umbrella of radiance that spread across the sky like smoke. When the light faded, and the sky returned to its normal inky hue, Viktor could see that there was barely a ripple in the still water. It was as if he'd never existed at all.

But the ache in his bones told him that they'd won, and that it was _real._

Viktor dropped his bow and simply _breathed_ for a few moments, his heart thumping wildly against his chest.

It was over. After all this, after _everything,_ they were finally safe.

Then after a few moments, Viktor stumbled over to where Phichit was still lying to the side, his breaths quick and shallow as the pain from his broken leg shot through him. "H-Hey,” Phichit said weakly, tears shining across his cheeks. “You did it.”

“ _We_ did it,” Viktor corrected, moisture gathering in his eyes as well. “We’re gonna get you home soon. Thank you for fighting at my side.”

Phichit mustered up a small smile. “Of course. I’m still expecting to be at that wedding, Viktor.”

He laughed. “There's no one that Yuuri would want there more.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was floating.

It was devoid of light, and he didn't know where he was, but strangely enough, Yuuri was at peace. He was calmer than he ever felt, the constant buzz under his skin oddly absent in this place. Even though, it was a little bit lonely here. Yuuri knew that he wasn't dead, but he wasn't alive either, stuck instead in a realm for lost souls.

Yuuri knew time had to be passing here, but it seemed like _ages_ had gone by before a small ball of light burst to life in front of him. 

“You’re a stubborn little prince, aren’t you,” it murmured. The voice had an echoing quality to it, as if it belonged to something beyond the little spark. “I didn’t think your soul would stick around this long.”

“I’m not leaving without my soulmate,” Yuuri answered, lifting his head up. “I won't leave him behind.”

There was still the slightest pull that tethered Yuuri to something below, preventing him from moving beyond the in-between world, and Yuuri  _knew_ that it was Viktor's own soul keeping him close though their first connection had snapped. And even now, Yuuri could feel it rebuilding, layer by layer, until it would become as strong as it used to be. 

The light flickered slightly. “Ah,” it replied, sounding thoughtful. “A love so strong that it transcends worlds. How interesting it is that I tried to pry apart two souls that are so closely intertwined. Maybe I would have been more successful with another pair, but I suppose I'll never get that chance.”

“I _won't_ leave him behind,” Yuuri repeated, firmer. "I still owe him a lifetime together."

There was a small huff in reply. “Well, it seems that your soulmate has fought hard enough to keep your soul alive until now—it’s only right that I return what belongs to you.”

Yuuri’s sense of time and space was gone, but he could still feel that rush of strength as magic flooded his body once again. He glanced back up at the small orb, watching it flicker again like a dying candle. There was no warning when the light finally disappeared, but once the realm was plunged into darkness, the in-between world suddenly fell out from underneath Yuuri's feet. It happened too quickly for him to react, and before he knew it, he was staring up into the sky above Swan Lake, and the warmth of Viktor's eyes.

Viktor smiled. “Welcome back, _lyubimiy,_ ” he finally said, his voice cracking as he laughed. 

Then Yuuri laughed too, his tone just as watery. “Yeah," he said, wiping his eyes. "I’m back.”

When they held each other close, it felt like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ramblings:
> 
> 1\. Viktor's control over his magic really isn't that great oops, but when he really concentrates (like the bit with arrow at the end) he can do a _lot_ of damage. Remember that soul magic is at the top of the tier of all kinds of magic!! Yuuri's is a little more controlled/powerful bc like, he practiced using it when he was younger. (It's also why his flames are blue after being unable to use it, and when Satou uses it they're orange. Satou isn't as experienced w/ it as Yuuri is.)
> 
> 2\. Also if you didn't get that earlier, Satou's Villain Goal was basically to rule the world, but he learned real fast that messing with Viktuuri isn't exactly the best way to achieve that lol. And he meets Yuuri in the in-between world bc Yuuri's soul is just kinda floating around there and so will Satou's for all eternity bc he's a butt ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> 3\. The power of love is real strong. And so are souls. Yuuri isn't gonna leave so easily. :)
> 
> 4\. Maybe I'll write something later about what happened with Chris, Keiichi, and Ryou in a future oneshot? It'll probably go up on my tumblr at some point bc I know it seems a little "eh" atm haha. And Keiichi's so comfortable around Chris bc he's so kind—he's like the older brother/father figure that he never really had before meeting Yuuri and the others. Keiichi deserves so much happiness after everything that happened to him ;A;
> 
>  
> 
> Other notes:
> 
> I _did_ promise angst with a happy ending; it just took us some time to get there :) And ah, I think the next chapter will be the last? It'll tie up some loose ends, shove some more fluff in your face, and probably make me cry ahaha bc this is the first fic I've written for YOI and I'm so emotional about this. I'm so excited.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought before you leave, and feel free to find me on **[tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com)** or **[twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles)**!! I'm a lot more active on both, and I promise I'm very friendly!! You can come talk to me there about random stuff like other works in progress, and I post ficlets and stuff from time to time, and sometimes I make [music](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/tagged/i-try-at-music)!! Stop by if you'd like :)
> 
> Hope you have/had a good day today, and thank you for reading!! ♥♥♥


	16. Epilogue: Next to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri cries, Viktor cries, and I cry even more than these two dorks combined.

During those first few nights back, Yuuri still woke up sometimes, gasping for breath. Viktor would always be there to sing him back to sleep, or whisper soft endearments in Russian before he fell back asleep.

“I’m _terrified_ that I’ll wake up there again,” Yuuri choked into Viktor’s shoulder, wet, shuddering sobs tearing out of his throat. It was only the second night since they’ve returned, and the first in which Yuuri asked if they could sleep together. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here—”

But Viktor, kind and wonderful and so understanding that Yuuri wanted to cry even more, simply held him in his arms. “I’m not leaving you,” he promised, tucking Yuuri close to his chest. “I’m going to stay right by your side and as long as I’m here, you’re never going to feel scared ever again.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Yuuri asked, hot tears still sliding down his cheeks.

Viktor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s crown. “I ask myself the same question every day.”

 

* * *

 

The wedding was scheduled to take place a few months later.

Everyone involved in Satou’s scheme was still affected by it in one way or another—Phichit walked with a slight limp now, Guang-hong’s soft countenance had hardened somewhat, and Yuri was a little more subdued than he used to be.

Keiichi, though, had blossomed without his father’s thorns pinning him down.

As time passed, Chris and Masumi had more-or-less adopted him, giving him more love in a few weeks than he ever had in sixteen years. He began working with Masumi in that little cafe in St. Petersburg, and there, his smile was slowly becoming more commonplace. When Yuuri visited later, he noticed that Keiichi had cut his hair as well, only adding to the layers of his old life that he’d cast aside.

Ryou was let out of the cell in Satou’s now-abandoned castle, and was officially put on trial for endangering the Russian royal family, including Yuuri. He admitted everything when asked, weariness hanging from every syllable. Even after hearing everything, Yuuri honestly still couldn’t believe that Nishigori Ryou, out of all people, was a _traitor._  Takeshi was still on his way from Japan to bring them back home, unknowing of anything that had happened, and Yuuri felt awful knowing that he was the one who had to deliver the verdict to him.

“Safe journey, love,” Viktor said, carding his hands through Yuuri’s hair. “I’ll see you soon. And then we’ll come back home.”

Yuuri startled a little at the word _home_ and glanced up at Viktor in wonder. Because home wasn’t just in Hasetsu anymore. It was wherever Viktor was, and he’d be returning as soon as he could.

“I will.”

Then Yuuri left, riding alone in a carriage that took him right to the ocean’s edge.

Takeshi swept him up in a hug when the ship docked at the port of St. Petersburg, his eyes red-rimmed, and they cried together as Yuuri told him the entire story during the journey back. As he neared the end, he stumbled over the part where Ryou had apparently betrayed them, unable to continue. Takeshi’s tears slid silently down his face as he tried to apologize for his father’s actions, but Yuuri shook his head. It wasn’t his fault—there was only Satou to blame, and he was gone now.

Yuuri’s arm was still healing from where Viktor had accidentally shot at him, but otherwise most of the damage was in his thoughts. When he woke up in the middle of the night again, alone in the cabin of the ship, Yuuri couldn’t help but reach fruitlessly out to where Viktor’s warmth would be. It was frustratingly lonely without him there.

His family was hysterical when they met him at the docks, and Yuuri couldn’t help but cry again into his mother’s arms. He’d missed them so much more than he thought.

And later, there was a light knock on Yuuri’s bedroom door.

“Hey,” Mari greeted, poking her head in. “Are you okay?”

“Nee-chan,” Yuuri said, startled. “What you are you doing here?”

“I asked first.”

Yuuri felt his mouth opening and closing, but no words were able to come out. What was _okay?_ Because sure, he was fine. _More_ than fine.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Mari questioned, perching on the edge of Yuuri’s bed. It was like the night that Yuuri had left for Russia, except their positions were reversed. She fixed him with a look that only an older sister could give her little brother, and suddenly Yuuri felt like he was twelve years old again, lost and unsure of who he was supposed to be.

“I dunno,” Yuuri mumbled. He slid deeper under the covers, finding that pocket of warmth. “Not really.”

“Do you _need_ to talk about it?” Mari said again, stressing the word _need._ Not want. _Need._ They weren’t the closest pair of siblings growing up, but during times like this Yuuri remembered just how much he appreciated her as an older sister.

“I-I can’t sleep at night,” Yuuri admitted, not meeting her eyes. Instead, he watched his toes wiggle from under the blanket, making it move and crash like ocean waves. “It was easier to deal with everything when Viktor was here, but—”

“Now you can’t,” she said, finishing his sentence. After a beat, she continued, “So I guess you two made up?” His sister looked much too knowledgeable _not_ to know what had happened, and Yuuri blamed Takeshi for this.

“We’re getting married,” he blurted, unable to handle the weight of that knowing gaze on him. “He’s my soulmate, my magic’s back, and we’re getting married in Hasetsu.”

A smile spread across Mari’s face. “Was that so hard?” she asked, patting his leg where it lay under the thick blanket. “You know, I kinda guessed that you two would fall in love someday,” she mused, glancing out the window before meeting his eyes again. “I’m glad everything worked out in the end.”

“Me too,” Yuuri agreed. “The nearly-dying part wasn’t necessary, though.” Mari was still looking at him, silently urging him to go on, so he said, “And I don’t know when I’ll be okay, but I do know that I won’t let Satou keep control of me any longer.”

“I’ll support you as long as you need,” Mari said. “Tou-san and Kaa-san too. We’re here for you, Yuuri, so don’t ever forget that.”

A lump formed in Yuuri’s throat, and he sprung up and hugged her. “Thank you, nee-chan.”

 

* * *

 

Before he knew it, four months passed, the sakura blossoms were beginning to bloom, and Yuuri was getting married today.

Viktor and his family had arrived in Hasetsu a few days ago, and their reunion filled something that was missing in Yuuri’s heart in the time they’d been apart. With the obvious exception of last night, they’d slept in the same room since then, just needing the other person near.

They’d tried to keep the ceremony as small as they could, only inviting family and close friends, but then Yuri had asked to bring Otabek and Guang-hong wondered if Leo could come, and so the invitation was extended to all of the neighboring kingdoms.

Naturally, everyone was in full attendance.

Even with the large crowd, it was a simple wedding compared to others. Viktor had wanted a grand one, but agreed that the elegance of the sakura blossoms around them was all the decoration they needed.

Yuuri and Viktor chose not to see each other before the actual ceremony itself, wanting to be surprised even though they knew the general idea of what the other was wearing. Yuuri’s hakama and haori were currently hanging on his bedroom door, freshly tailored, pressed, and ready for him to slip into.

He soaked in the family onsen for about an hour to relax his wound muscles, and then he was suddenly back in his bedroom and wrapped in a fluffy robe while Phichit expertly brushed a light, glittery pigment across his eyelids before he lined them.

“Excited?” he asked, fingers just barely touching Yuuri’s chin as he moved his head to examine his work at all angles. “Blink.”

“My heart’s pounding,” Yuuri confessed, obediently blinking as Phichit coated his lashes with something from a tube that he’d seemed to pull out of nowhere. “But in a good way,” he added hastily, seeing Phichit’s raised eyebrow.

But only Phichit laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he began dabbing at Yuuri’s lips. “Oh, I _promise_ you, Yuuri, I know.”

The fight with Satou had dislocated Phichit’s knee, leaving him nearly bedridden for eight weeks after, and it had taken him a while to begin walking normally again. He still wore something around his knee to keep it stable even after it healed, but it was almost unnoticable if he wore pants like he was now.

“You wanna see what you look like?” Phichit asked, surveying Yuuri’s face with a proud grin. “I did a really great job.”

Phichit handed him a mirror, and Yuuri couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp. He almost didn’t even _recognize_ the person staring back at him; the man in the mirror was wide-eyed, his lids dusted with a soft gold that complemented the color of his eyes, and the dark liner only added to the ethereal effect. His parted lips were coated with a gloss that made them shimmer.

Tears sprung to his eyes, and Phichit screeched with alarm. “ _Yuuri,_ you’re going to ruin it!” he yelped, hastily dabbing at Yuuri’s face with a towel.

“Phichit, I love it,” Yuuri blubbered. “I love _you_ , and I—I look _beautiful._ Thank you so much.”

“Viktor’s gonna fall at your feet when he sees you,” Phichit said, calmer now after he’d successfully salvaged Yuuri’s makeup. He winked. “Don’t be too hard on the poor guy.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said again, helpless. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Just go out there and be beautiful,” Phichit told him, packing up his makeup supplies. “Today’s _your_ day—you’re marrying the love of your life, and it’s gonna be great.”

“It’s gonna be great,” Yuuri echoed, already feeling giddy about the prospect of seeing Viktor before they walked down the aisle together. Their mothers were going to be escorting them to the altar, the sakura petals would be covering the ground, and Yuuri was marrying his best friend and the love of his life in only a few short hours.

He couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 

The wedding was incredible.

Yuuri nearly cried his makeup off within the first few minutes when he first saw Viktor walk in, his arm looped with his mother’s, and looking absolutely _radiant._

 _I love him,_ was the first thought that blossomed in Yuuri’s mind when their eyes locked, and they smiled at each other, hearts bursting with joy.

They walked down the center of aisle together, their mothers on the other side of them, and Yuuri couldn’t help but reach his hand out slightly. Viktor seemed to have the same idea in mind, so their hands met halfway, fingers brushing as they continued to step forward.

The ceremony itself was honestly a bit of a blur. Yuuri was too focused on sneaking glances at Viktor as the presider spoke, and the only words he heard were _You may now kiss the groom_ before he launched himself at Viktor and sealed their lips together.

He wasn’t even embarrassed.

The reception soon followed, along with their first dance. Sara and Michele offered the music, an aria that was popular in their kingdom, and Yuuri and Viktor both cried when they first heard them sing it.

(“It’s about two people who find each other after being lost for a long time,” Sara told them, smiling gently. “Stammi Vicino is what it’s called.”

“Or, Stay Close to Me,” Michele translated, his gruff exterior softening around them now that he knew they weren’t a threat to his sister. Honestly, Mila was probably the largest contender for Sara’s heart—it was only a matter of time before _they_ were married.

“Please,” Yuuri said, as Viktor held his hand. “We’d love it if you could sing that for our first dance.”)

It was night now, and Yuuri and Viktor had escaped to one of the balconies overlooking the grounds. He leaned into Viktor’s arms and gazed across the forest to where the town was, taking in its sparkling lights set against the starry sky. The celebration was still going on far below them, under the lanterns’ warm glow, and the faint sound of music and laughter floated up into the sky above.

Yuuri could see Yuri, Keiichi, Guang-hong, Leo, and Minami dancing together as Otabek played something on the cello for them, while the older crowd gathered together to enjoy their last few drinks before they all had to go to bed. It still felt surreal to be back in a place he felt completely safe in, after being trapped against his will for two weeks. It felt strange that he was married to his soulmate and the love of his life, after believing for _years_ that his affections were unrequited.

Yet Yuuri knew better than anyone else that the matters of the heart were something that no person could ever truly understand. It was one of the universe's most beautiful mysteries—something that Yuuri would unravel through the rest of his life and love with Viktor.

“I’m happy,” Yuuri said, voicing his thoughts aloud, and Viktor squeezed his waist affectionately.

“So am I.”

Yuuri twisted around so that they were flush against each other, their heartbeats pressed together. There was a small smile playing around Viktor’s lips, curving softly at the edges. And unable to resist the words threatening to spill from his lips, Yuuri said, “I love you.”

Viktor’s eyes sparkled. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to Yuuri’s, very softly and very sweetly. Then Viktor crushed Yuuri’s body to his, so close that Yuuri felt as if they were melting into one. His soul sang.

Then Viktor gently cupped Yuuri’s face, his gaze tender like Yuuri was the most precious thing in the world. “I love you too.”

For the nth time that day, tears sprung to Yuuri’s eyes, and he tiptoed to kiss Viktor again. And again, and _again_ , until their lips were kiss-bruised and they were drunk on each other’s love.

It was going to be okay.

 _They_ were going to be okay.

And they would be—far, _far_ longer than forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finished!!
> 
> ~~(Can you believe I managed to write a chapter in eight days wow)~~
> 
> Anyway, I just want to give an overwhelming _thank you_ to everyone reading this—thank you for traveling with me as I ventured into fic writing for the first time in a while, thank you for staying with me even as my update schedule only became more and more sporadic, and thank you for reading until the end. Whether you're a new reader, or someone who's been here since the beginning of the year (a _whole year!!_ It's been almost a year since I first published this!!), I love you so much. 
> 
> Thank you for all the support you've given me as I've struggled with writing, and for the countless comments and kudos and even _fan art_ oh my god—it's really thanks to all of you that we're here, at the end of the final chapter of On Matters of the Heart. 
> 
> While there's nothing planned for a continuation of this fic, I'm definitely going to be writing other fics for YOI in the coming year that I hope you'll enjoy as well :) As I've mentioned before, I'm pretty active on **[tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com)** , so please don't hesitate to come talk to me about anything, whether it's about my future fics or even prompt ideas!!
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful day, and I'll see you next level!! ♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal mood: someone draw Yuuri in the Eros kimono alskdjalj;f
> 
> Say hello to me on [Tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/) or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles) @postingpebbles! :)


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